412C 


EXILE 


BY    THE    SAME    AUTHOR 


THE  CAREER  OF  BEAUTY  DARLING 

THE  STORY  OF  EDEN 

CAPTAIN  AMYAS 

AS  YE  HAVE  SOWN 

MAFOOTA 

ROSE-WHITE  YOUTH 

THE  PATHWAY  OF  THE  PIONEER 

TROPICAL  TALES 

THE  RIDING  MASTER 

THE  UNOFFICIAL  HONEYMOON 

YOUTH  WILL  BE  SERVED 

THE  RAT  TRAP 

VERSES 


EXILE 


AN    OUTPOST    OF    EMPIRE 


BY 

DOLF  WYLLARDE 

AUTHOR  OF  "THE  STORY  OF  EDEN,"  "THE  RAT  TRAP," 
"THE  CAREER  OF  BEAUTY  DARLING,"  ETC. 


NEW  YORK 
JOHN  LANE  COMPANY 


M  CM  XVI 


Copyright,  1916,  by 
JOHN  LANE  COMPANY 


Press  of 

J.  J.  Little  &  Ives  Compary 
New  York.U.SA. 


EXILE 


2139000 


EXILE 


CHAPTER   I 

"O,  eyes  on  eyes !    O,  voices  breaking  still, 
For  the  watchful  will, 
Into  a  kinder  kindness  that  seemed  due 
From  you  to  me  and  me  to  you! 
And  that  hot-eyed,  close-throated,  blind  regret 
Of  woman  and  man  baulked  and  debarred  the  blue !" 

W.  E.  HENLEY. 

THE  lamps  had  just  been  lit  in  the  Club  at  Exile, 
and  burned  steadily  despite  the  wind  that  al- 
ways blows  at  night  round  the  club-house — four  can- 
dle-lamps to  each  bridge  table.  The  game  was  popu- 
lar, and  there  were  so  many  tables  that  some  of  them 
were  set  out  beyond  the  verandah,  on  the  stretch  of 
gravel  between  the  club-house  and  the  sea,  where 
people  had  been  having  tea  at  sunset.  Several  ladies 
were  still  there,  chatting  to  the  accompaniment  of  the 
sea  lapping  beneath  the  stone  wall,  while  the  ships 
and  smaller  craft  in  Exile  Harbour  blossomed  into 
electric  stars  and  riding  lights.  The  new  dockyard 
lay  out  of  sight  behind  Fort  Headland,  and  the  old 
harbourage  retained  its  picturesqueness.  It  was  a 
pretty  scene,  with  the  artificial  effect  often  produced 
in  foreign  stations  such  as  Exile,  and  which  reaches 
its  perfection  in  the  Yacht  Club  at  Bombay.  Indeed, 

7 


8  EXILE 

Exile  is  not  a  little  proud  of  the  fact  that  its  tiny 
Club  is  like  a  miniature  imitation  of  Bombay's,  if  you 
swept  the  latter  bare  of  every  blade  of  grass  and  green 
growing  thing.  Bombay  does  not  share  this  view. 
It  looks  upon  Exile  as  the  abomination  of  desolation, 
and  the  Club  as  a  pitiable  effort  to  endure  existence 
in  the  desert. 

Nevertheless  the  Exile  Club  has  surroundings  that 
can  be  seen  nowhere  else  in  the  world,  and  if  they 
strike  you  aghast  you  will  not  call  them  theatrical 
at  least.  For  up  behind  it  tower  the  Rocks,  in  forma- 
tion and  colour  like  bronze  icebergs  piercing  the  sky, 
and  across  the  harbourage  is  Banishment  islet,  behind 
which  the  sun  sets.  To  see  the  sky  torn  with  flame 
behind  Banishment  and  each  delicate  point  o'f  its 
jagged  teeth  traced  black  upon  the  boiling  clouds  is  a 
miracle  of  colour  and  form.  And  yet  people  in  Exile 
may  see  it  every  night. 

Five  men  were  standing  on  the  Club  verandah, 
watching  the  bridge  tables  fill  up  and  talking  raw 
scandal.  There  is  little  else  to  do  in  Exile  between 
the  shifts  of  work,  and  after  six  months  of  the  life 
people  begin  to  take  a  savage  delight  in  their  neigh- 
bours' sins,  knowing  that  they  cannot  hide  their  own. 
Exile  is  too  blatant  and  too  barren  to  hide  anything, 
or  perhaps  it  is  the  influence  of  the  horrid  formation 
of  its  craters  that  hardens  and  blasts  humanity.  The 
Rocks  drive  men  mad.  All  day  the  sun  beats  upon 
them  until  they  glare  back  and  blind  human  eyesight, 
and  at  night  the  heat  conies  off  them  again  like  the 
breath  of  a  furnace.  That  is  why  the  bungalows  are 
built  high  up  the  slopes,  to  get  above  the  stench  of  it 
and  into  the  upper  air.  The  Club,  being  on  the  shore, 


EXILE  9 

depends  upon  the  wind  that  blows  off  the  sea  at  night. 
But  nobody  goes  there  before  six  o'clock. 

Of  the  five  men  talking  scandal  one  was  Tommy 
Bride,  the  port  surgeon,  who  was  booked  to  the 
Admiral's  table  so  soon  as  he  should  appear;  the 
man  next  to  him  was  Richmond  Hervey,  Govern- 
ment engineer,  the  man  who  had  made  the  existence 
of  Fort  Exile  possible;  and  of  the  rest,  two  were 
service  men — 'Flag-Captain  George  Bunney,  R.N., 
Chief  of  Staff,  and  Lieutenant  Robert  Yarrow,  of  the 
Marines — the  last  of  the  group  being  the  Colonial 
Secretary,  Rodney  Haines. 

"Everard  is  back,  I  hear,"  said  Bride  to  Richmond 
Hervey.  "The  seraglios  of  Banishment  don't  seem 
to  have  held  the  usual  attractions  for  him !" 

"He  was  officially  reported  at  Port  Health,"  said 
Hervey  grimly. 

"Lies,  my  dear  fellow;  he  was  at  Banishment,  of 
course,  with  a  filthy  crowd  of  native  women.  The 
man's  a  swine  in  his  tastes.  I  met  his  carriage  once 
after  dark  in  Reserve  taking  home  a  woman  of  the 
bazaars.  Fact!" 

"He  isn't  back  yet  though,"  said  Rodney  Haines, 
turning  his  head  from  a  discussion  on  polo  with 
Yarrow.  "His  sick  leave  is  not  up.  The  court  begins 
to  sit  next  month." 

"Then  we  shall  see  more  'justice*  done!"  said 
Bunney  with  a  laugh.  "His  Jewish  friends  want 
the  monopoly  of  the  silk  trade  (not  to  mention  the 
Arab,  Hassan),  and  Azopardi  &  Co.  have  been  doing 
a  good  deal  in  that  line.  They're  in  the  way.  You 
mark  my  words,  Azopardi  will  be  had  up  for  larceny 
or  something  trivial,  like  Lestoc  was,  and  he'll  go." 


10  EXILE 

"Lestoc's  trial  was  for  embezzlement,  wasn't  it?*' 
corrected  Haines.  "Poor  devil!  that  six  months  in 
an  Arab  prison  put  him  out  of  the  running  for  ever, 
I'm  afraid." 

"It's  simply  damnable!"  burst  out  Yarrow  of  the 
Marines.  He  was  the  youngest  of  the  group,  and  not 
yet  cynical.  "The  man's  using  his  position  to  openly 
mishandle  justice.  He  made  Lestoc  a  bankrupt,  and 
then  sent  him  to  prison  to  get  him  out  of  the  way. 
What  on  earth  are  the  Home  authorities  doing.?  Why 
doesn't  the  Admiral  interfere?" 

"There's  no  jury  except  on  criminal  cases;  the 
Chief  Justice  has  it  all  in  his  own  hands,"  said  Haines 
curtly.  "That's  Exile.  Oh,  I  grant  you  that  there's 
an  appeal  to  the  Supreme  Court  of  Bombay  if  it's  a 
question  of  10,000  rupees,  or  if  he  gives  a  sentence 
of  two  years'  imprisonment;  but  a  clever  man  can 
easily  avoid  that.  When  Yale  went  home  on  six 
months'  leave  and  Everard  was  made  Acting  Chief 
Justice  he  had  a  few  old  scores  to  settle  with  the  silk 
merchants.  Well,  he's  settled  them." 

"But  to  simply  trump  up  a  charge  and  fling  any 
one  into  prison  who  was  in  his  way! — I  should  have 
thought  it  was  impossible  in  this  century." 

"Not  at  all — in  Exile.  Besides,  the  Admiral's  only 
just  back  from  leave  himself,  and  Everard's  got  the 
safe  side  of  him  at  present,"  said  Bunney.  "Even 
if  he  knew,  I  don't  quite  see  what  he  could  do.  No 
action  at  law  can  lie  against  an  officer  in  the  position 
of  Acting  Chief  Justice;  I  ascertained  that  for  my 
own  satisfaction.  A  Petition  to  the  Colonial  Secre- 
tary was  the  only  thing,  and  it  takes  some  time  to 


EXILE  ii 

get  the  Home  authorities  to  move  in  the  matter.  In 
the  meantime  Mr.  Everard  goes  gaily  on  his  way." 

"He's  such  a  damned  fine  pleader!"  said  Dr.  Bride 
cynically.  "The  man  really  has  the  gift  of  the  gab; 
he  can  almost  make  you  believe  that  black  is  white." 

"When  the  Petition  gets  home  there  will  be  an 
investigation,"  said  Haines.  "And  then  Everard  will 
crumble  all  to  pieces.  There  is  too  much  against  him 
for  a  single  man  to  carry — unless  he  were  a  Samson, 
which  E.  E.  is  not."  He  glanced  half  involuntarily 
at  Hervey,  as  if  some  possibility  struck  him;  and 
indeed  the  man  was  much  more  of  a  Samson  than  the 
Chief  Justice.  He  was  of  a  heavy  build  that  might 
have  been  fleshy  in  a  colder  climate,  but  Exile  does 
not  leave  superflous  fat  on  men's  bones,  and  Richmond 
Hervey  was  gaunt  rather  than  stout.  His  face  was 
broad-browed  and  square- jawed,  and  the  hair  on  the 
massive  head  was  grey,  though  a  great  deal  thicker 
than  most  of  the  younger  men's.  He  was  not  prepos- 
sessing in  appearance,  and  though  the  Colonial  Secre- 
tary liked  him  much,  personally  he  wondered  for  the 
twentieth  time  that  the  man  should  be  so  notorious  in 
his  loves.  There  were  few  women  in  Exile  whose 
names  had  not  been  rightly  or  wrongly  coupled  with 
his,  and  they  seemed  unable  to  resist  him  once  he 
turned  his  attention  to  them.  Why,  at  the  present 
moment  his  affair  with  Mrs.  Bride,  who  was  sitting 
over  there  chatting  to  Mrs.  Everard,  was  common  talk. 
Mrs.  Bride's  eyes  had  not  once  strayed  to  the  group  on 
the  verandah,  but  Haines  saw  her  hands  twitch  before 
the  light  darkened  too  much  to  betray  her,  and  he 
knew  that  she  was  undergoing  a  kind  of  drilling  that 
formed  one  of  Hervey's  amusements.  .  .  . 


12  EXILE 

There  was  something  of  the  artist  in  Rodney 
Haines,  and  he  divined  the  pains  and  penalties  of  his 
fellows  with  the  fine  sensitiveness  of  the  artist — some 
of  them,  but  not  all.  Little  Mrs.  Bride's  trouble  was 
an  open  book  to  him,  too  plain  for  indifference,  but 
of  Mrs.  Everard,  the  woman  talking  to  her,  he  knew 
nothing  at  all.  There  was  little  to  be  said  of  Mrs. 
Everard,  save  that  she  was  far  and  away  the  best- 
looking  woman  in  Exile,  and  that  some  dulness  or 
impassibility  in  her  safeguarded  her  from  scandal. 
Her  beauty  was  such  an  established  fact  that  comment 
on  it  was  stale,  and  she  attracted  no  one,  not  even  her 
own  husband,  who  sought  a  change  amongst  the 
seraglios  of  Banishment  islet!  If  anything  were  said 
of  Mrs.  Everard  it  was  to  pity  her  for  being  the  wife 
of  the  Chief  Justice;  but  it  was  generally  agreed  that 
she  suffered  less  than  any  other  woman  would  have 
done  on  account  of  her  thick  skin.  Even  Rodney 
Haines  with  his  quick  sympathies  was  not  really  think- 
ing of  her  as  he  said,  "Poor  Mrs.  Everard!  I  wonder 
whether  she  realises  the  kind  of  skunk  her  husband 
is?" 

"No,  I  don't  think  she  does,"  said  Bunney  can- 
didly. "She  is  not  a  quick-witted  woman,  and  Ever- 
ard has  that  gift  of  representing  himself  exactly  as 
he  wishes  to  appear.  I'll  bet  you  he  has  gulled  his 
wife  so  that  she  thinks  him  in  the  right  even  over 
these  judgments;  and  he'll  gull  the  Home  authorities, 
too,  if  they  come  in  personal  contact  with  him.  The 
man  knows  his  own  power.  There  is  nothing  that  he 
is  afraid  of." 

It  was  at  this  point  that  Richmond  Hervey  sud- 
denly laughed.  It  was  such  a  very  unpleasant  laugh 


EXILE  13 

that  the  other  men  all  looked  at  him  a  little  curiously, 
and  Haines  moved  instinctively  away.  But  he  was 
not  a  pleasant  person,  and  the  extreme  irony  of  his 
laughter  was  probably  the  outcome  of  some  far  from 
kindly  joke  known  only  to  himself. 

"If  you  talk  of  angels  it  is  apt  to  make  them  flutter 
their  wings,"  he  said  with  a  sneer.  "Mrs.  Everard 
is  fluttering  hers.  She  is  undoubtedly  one  of  our  few 
angels  and  as  unattractive  as  angels  usually  are.  Here 
she  comes — 'unspotted  from  the  world,'  even  in 
Exile  I"  He  was  not  ironical  now,  despite  his  ill- 
nature.  Indeed,  he  was  conscious  of  a  feeling  of 
discomfort  which  always  attacked  him  on  Mrs. 
Everard's  advent  in  his  neighbourhood.  She  was  the 
only  woman  in  Exile  who  made  him  feel  ashamed  of 
himself  in  the  most  infinitesimal  degree,  and  he  hated 
her  for  it. 

"She  is  leaving  early  to-day;  she  generally  stays 
until  Lady  Stroud  arrives,"  said  George  Bunney,  fol- 
lowing Mrs.  Everard's  progress  across  the  gravel  with 
critical  eyes.  "She's  more  like  a  goddess  than  an 
angel,  Hervey.  Great  Scott,  how  she  moves  I  It's 
royal." 

"Goddess  or  angel,  it's  equally  painful  to  look  up  to 
her  I"  said  Hervey  with  a  savage  scorn  of  the  truth. 

"I  hear  that  Lady  Stroud  has  a  niece  of  the  Ad- 
miral's arriving  to-day,  and  has  gone  down  to  the 
pier  to  meet  the  boat  That  is  why  she's  late,"  said 
Yarrow.  "Merryn's  on  duty,  of  course."  Merryn 
was  flag-lieutenant,  and  acted  as  A.D.C.  to  the  Ad- 
miral. "Dashed  nuisance.  I  wanted  him  to  play  polo 
this  afternoon." 

"Is  Lady  Stroud  late,  or  is  Mrs.  Everard  early  in 


I4  EXILE 

leaving?"  said  Dr.  Bride  idly.  "It  might  be  interesting 
to  know,  because  if  it's  the  latter  it  may  mean  that 
Everard  is  coming  back  to-night  after  all.  I  wonder 
if  he  has  heard  of  the  Petition!" 

The  slightness  of  the  speculation  marked  the  rate 
of  interest  in  Exile, — even  local  interest.  Mrs. 
Everard  had  almost  reached  the  verandah  while 
they  spoke,  and  passed  into  the  great  arc  of  light, 
perfectly  composed  and  unselfconscious  in  her 
progress,  though  the  talk  fell  short  and  the  eyes  of 
all  the  men  near  were  focussed  upon  her.  The  light 
revealed  every  fold  in  her  white  gown  and  the  rain- 
bow silk  of  the  scarf  round  her  shoulders.  She  was 
rather  above  the  average  height  for  a  woman,  and 
built  indeed  as  if  for  a  pedestal.  Her  hair  was  like 
unburnished  gold,  dull  and  rich,  but  not  metallic, 
and  her  skin  had  neither  burnt  nor  faded  for  all  the 
suns  and  the  burning  heat  of  Exile.  It  was  a  very 
white  skin,  pure  and  colourless,  and  her  lips  looked 
the  redder  by  contrast  since  she  had  no  roses  in  her 
cheeks.  Her  eyes  were  as  nearly  purple  as  human 
eyes  can  be,  with  a  dash  of  brown  in  them  that  at 
times  made  them  look  wine-coloured,  the  brows  and 
lashes  faintly  black.  And  all  this  without  a  touch 
of  art  to  assist  Nature!  It  was  a  mockery  of  all 
established  customs  in  Exile,  a  challenge  flung  down 
to  the  laws  of  paint  and  powder. 

She  was  looking1  straight  at  the  group  of  gossips  as 
she  passed  them,  her  steady  eyes  first  falling  on  Dr. 
Bride  and  then  focussing  for  a  minute  on  Rodney 
Haines,  so  that  her  bow  seemed  made  principally 
to  him.  He  raised  his  hat  with  a  quickness  that 
seemed  almost  gratitude,  and  could  have  been 


EXILE  15 

equalled  by  no  other  man  in  the  group.  He  had  all 
the  responsiveness  of  the  artist.  But  Mrs.  Everard's 
eyes  glanced  inclusively  over  Captain  Bunney  and 
Richmond  Hervey  and  Mr.  Yarrow  before  she  lowered 
them  with  faint  and  general  courtesy. 

"She  is  certainly  beautiful,"  said  Rodney  Haines, 
as  sure  of  not  being  contradicted  as  he  was  that  not 
one  of  the  other  men  would  be  more  interested  than 
he  was  himself.  One  does  not  grow  enthusiastic 
over  the  law  of  gravitation  or  the  power  of  steam. 
Both  are  proven  facts,  and  no  longer  discoveries. 
Mrs.  Everard's  beauty  was  of  the  same  order. 

She  had  passed  with  an  unquickened  step  and  an 
unheightened  colour;  nor  was  there  the  least  hurry 
or  betrayal  in  her  of  any  emotion.  Yet  her  heart 
was  beating  so  heavily  that  it  was  actual  physical  pain, 
and  the  throbbing  in  her  temples  frightened  her  as 
it  always  did  from  a  certain  proximity.  With  one 
of  those  five  men  standing  on  the  verandah  she  was 
in  love,  so  vitally  and  imperatively  that  the  passion 
of  it  swung  her  to  the  pendulum  of  its  own  force  and 
threatened  to  have  its  way  with  her.  All  she  could 
do  was  to  hold  her  breath  under  the  imperious  power 
and  to  preserve  her  outward  calm  so  far  that  not  one 
of  the  group  had  as  yet  the  faintest  suspicion  of  it. 
So  far,  so  far — but  how  much  farther?  It  seemed 
to  her  a  blind  force  hurrying  her  along  a  road  whose 
end  she  could  not  even  guess,  and  she  never  knew 
whether  it  might  not  sweep  her  off  her  feet  at  any 
moment.  To  be  in  the  same  room  with  the  man  she 
loved  caught  her  breath  short  as  if  the  four  walls 
were  not  wide  enough  for  the  spreading  fire  between 
them;  to  pass  him  as  she  had  passed  him  to-night, 


16  EXILE 

one  of  a  careless  group,  oblivious  of  her,  made  her 
dizzy  with  the  tingling  sense  of  him;  and  yet  it  had 
reached  him  so  little  that  none  of  the  five  guessed  it 
more  than  another,  and  each  of  them  might  have 
turned  to  his  neighbour  and  said,  "Is  it  you? — is  it 
that  other? — which  of  us  could  it  be,  when  all  seem 
impossible?" 

Not  one  of  them  turned,  indeed,  to  cast  a  glance 
after  her  as  her  white  figure  vanished  out  of  the  light 
on  the  verandah  round  the  corner  of  the  club-house 
and  was  engulfed  in  shadow.  As  she  emerged  again 
on  the  entrance  front  that  opened  on  the  road  she 
found  herself  facing  a  large  motor  car  and  two  ladies 
coming1  into  the  Club.  It  was  the  Admiral's  car, 
and  Mrs.  Everard  stopped  to  shake  hands  with  Lady 
Stroud. 

"Leaving  so  soon,  Mrs.  Everard?  I  hoped  you 
would  stay  for  bridge.  May  I  introduce  my  husband's 
niece,  Miss  Play  fair?" 

A  very  tall  girl  put  out  her  hand  a  trifle  readily,  as 
if  the  sight  of  Mrs.  Everard  pleased  her,  and  in  the 
lights  of  the  entrance  they  looked  at  each  other  curi- 
ously, as  strangers  do  in  Exile  where  most  things  are 
too  familiar.  Miss  Playfair  could  not  have  been  more 
than  twenty,  and  her  face  had  the  opening  look  of 
a  child  or  a  flower.  The  large,  candid  eyes  gave  her 
the  expression  of  one  always  asking  a  question,  a 
little  puzzled  with  life,  the  wonder  of  inexperience. 
Yet  she  carried  herself  with  the  composure  of  the 
modern  English  girl  who  is  trained  out  of  awkward- 
ness by  mental  and  physical  athletics.  To  Mrs 
Everard  she  flashed  out  suddenly  pathetic  in  the 


EXILE  17 

glitter  of  the  Qub  lights,  a  young  face  seen  for  the 
first  time — in  Exile. 

Lady  Stroud  turned  back  from  the  entrance  as  she 
was  piloting  Miss  Play  fair  into  the  Club,  and  motioned 
her  chauffeur  to  drive  on. 

"Are  you  looking  for  your  car,  Mrs.  Everard? 
Mr.  Merryn  is  there;  he  will  find  it  for  you.  Mr. 
Merryn,  do  find  Mrs.  Everard's  car  and  send  our  own 
out  of  the  way!" 

A  young  man  stepped  out  of  the  darkness  with  two 
cloaks  over  his  arm  and  the  cumbered  air  of  the 
A.D.C.  Lieutenant  Merryn  was  fond  of  the  Admiral 
and  Lady  Stroud,  and  would  have  admitted  that  his 
lines  had  fallen  in  pleasant  places  to  be  attached  to 
their  staff;  but  his  position,  like  all  A.D.C.'s,  was 
more  than  that  of  a  poodle  and  less  than  that  of  a 
footman,  since  the  former  has  no  responsibility  and 
the  latter  knows  where  his  duties  begin  and  end. 
Mrs.  Everard  stopped  him  as  he  was  plunging  into 
the  darkness  again  and  pointed  across  the  road. 

"I  have  not  got  the  car;  it  is  with  my  husband. 
I  have  been  using  one  of  Jalbhoy's  carriages;  it  is  on 
the  other  side  of  the  road." 

A  minute  later  it  drove  up,  the  abuggi  bringing  the 
pair  of  ponies  almost  on  to  their  haunches  in  the 
display  of  his  zeal,  and  Mrs.  Everard  was  helped  in 
by  the  young  man  still  standing  in  the  road.  Even 
as  the  carriage  swung  round  she  heard  Miss  Play- 
fair's  clear  young  voice,  unconsciously  audible  in  the 
hot  night. 

"Oh,  Aunt  Fanny!  What  a  beautiful  woman! 
Who  is  she?" 

Lady  Stroud's  reply  was  lost  round  the  corner  of 


1 8  EXILE 

the  Club  as  they  disappeared  on  to  the  verandah, 
Mr.  Merryn  bringing  up  the  rear  with  the  cloaks. 
Mrs.  Everard  leaned  back  upon  the  cushions  of  the 
open  carriage  and  stared  straight  ahead  into  the  hot 
black  arc  of  the  heavens,  dazzling  with  stars.  She 
was  not  thinking  of  the  girl's  impulsive  tribute  to  her 
beauty,  or  of  the  flashing,  cloudless  sky,  though  she 
liked  Exile  best  at  this  hour,  when  it  seemed  as  if  the 
heavens  went  back  and  back  into  limitless  spaces  of 
black  velvet,  and  the  planets  swung  and  flickered 
from  one  horizon  to  the  other.  Her  thoughts  had 
reverted  to  that  moment  when  she  passed  the  group 
of  men  on  the  Club  verandah — the  proximity  of  one 
of  them — the  rest  of  the  world  blotted  out  by  his 
indifferent  personality.  She  need  not  struggle  out 
here  under  the  stars;  she  could  allow  this  wild  love 
to  have  its  way  with  her,  and  with  limbs  relaxed  she 
let  herself  go,  and  felt  the  blood  rush  through  her 
veins  at  fever  heat,  and  leave  her  now  dry  and  tin- 
gling, now  moist  and  faint.  The  unsatisfied  passion  in 
her  did  indeed  make  her  feverish,  and  her  throat  ached 
with  unuttered  sobs.  It  was  these  fits  of  physical  pain 
that  she  dreaded  so,  the  outcome  of  her  mental  crav- 
ing. For  she  was  not  a  sensualist;  only,  her  baulked 
instinct  racked  heart  and  nerves  alike. 

The  Chief  Justice's  bungalow  lay  out  beyond  the 
fort,  between  the  garrison  buildings  and  Reserve. 
All  Service  people  lived  in  the  fort,  and  most  of  the 
officials,  but  the  road  ran  out  along  the  base  of  the 
Rocks  and  through  the  new  Cutting  to  Reserve,  which 
is  the  business  town  of  Exile.  From  the  Cutting  high- 
way a  private  road  turned  up  the  face  of  the  Rocks, 
climbing  from  ridge  to  ridge  until  it  reached  the  bun- 


EXILE  19 

galow,  perched  upon  a  small  plateau  that  would  hardly 
hold  it  and  its  narrow  compound.  Mrs.  Everard 
looked  lower  than  the  stars  as  she  was  driven  along 
the  face  of  the  Rocks  to  see  their  jagged  outline  pierc- 
ing the  night  sky.  She  had  a  curious  love  for  the 
Rocks  that  was  half  revulsion.  They  were  so  part  of 
Exile  that  they  seemed  part  of  her  life  there  also,  and 
her  life  was  summed  up  for  her  in  this  headlong  love 
that  had  overtaken  her.  So  she  loved  the  Rocks  as 
martyrs  love  the  sharp  edges  of  the  cross  they  press 
into  their  flesh.  It  seemed  to  Claudia  Everard  that 
the  teeth  of  the  Rocks  cut  into  her  life  also. 

The  abuggi  lashed  his  team  as  they  began  to  ascend, 
but  he  need  not  have  done  so,  for  the  horses  of  Fort 
Exile  are  trained  to  gallop  once  they  turn  uphill.  Mrs. 
Everard  hated  the  sound  of  the  blows,  and  called 
sharply  to  the  man  to  let  them  walk  if  they  wished. 
She  spoke  Arabic  fluently  after  her  two  years  in  the 
station — more  fluently  than  most  of  the  men  or  any 
of  the  women.  The  driver  dropped  his  whip  back 
into  its  socket,  but  urged  his  horses  instead  with  the 
wild  cry  of  the  place,  "Hoour-cheel!  Hoour-cheel !" 
And  so  they  tore,  straining  and  leaping,  to  the  Chief 
Justice's  bungalow. 

Mrs.  Everard  alighted  in  the  compound  and  walked 
into  the  house.  The  air  was  much  fresher  here  than 
it  had  been  at  the  foot  of  the  Rocks,  but  through  all 
the  bungalow  sounded  the  whir  of  electric  fans,  and 
a  cool  draught  greeted  her  as  she  entered  the  sitting- 
room.  There  was  electric  light  here  too,  and  from 
other  bungalows  spitted  amongst  the  Rocks  the 
jewelled  electricity  was  already  shining  across  the 
valleys  and  chasms.  This  was  Richmond  Hervey's 


20  EXILE 

work.  He  had  brought  the  electric  light  to  Govern* 
ment  House  and  the  garrison  already,  though  the 
buildings  on  the  shore  had  not  yet  had  it  installed. 

The  room  which  Mrs.  Everard  had  entered  was 
both  dining-room  and  drawing-room,  running  from 
side  to  side  of  the  bungalow.  The  dining-room  por- 
tion was  only  divided  off  by  pillars,  and  the  same 
polished  floor  ran  through  and  between  them.  The 
drawing-room  was  octagonal  in  shape,  with  jalousies 
that  filled  one  end  of  it  and  were  sheltered  by  a 
verandah.  It  was  as  good  a  room  as  might  be  found 
in  Exile,  and  combined  the  advantages  of  air,  seclu- 
sion from  the  glare  of  day,  and  immunity  from  dust. 
Even  high  up  in  the  Rocks  the  whirling  sand  and  dust 
seemed  to  settle  upon  everything,  but  there  was  little 
in  the  room  to  hold  it — neither  curtains,  carpets,  nor 
table  covers.  All  the  furniture  was  polished  wood  or 
basket  work ;  the  sole  upholstery  was  in  the  quantity  of 
silk  cushions.  It  struck  any  one  entering  as  comfort- 
able and  even  luxurious,  but  it  shared  a  curious  sense 
of  something  lacking  with  all  houses  in  Exile,  and 
strangers  did  not  for  a  few  minutes  recognise  that  it 
was  the  absence  of  flowers  and  plants  that  struck 
them.  As  no  green  thing  will  grow  on  the  Rocks' 
without  infinite  care  and  labour,  there  are  neither 
flowers  nor  shrubs,  except  at  Government  House, 
where  some  goldmore  trees  and  a  few  cacti  are 
regarded  as  a  necessary  adjunct  of  royalty. 

The  restlessness  of  Mrs.  Everard's  trouble  was  still 
upon  her.  She  walked  to  a  small  table  and  took  up 
some  "chits"  that  had  arrived  during  the  afternoon, 
looked  at  them,  and  threw  them  down  without  open- 
ing. Her  heart  still  beat  unpleasantly  fast,  and  she 


EXILE  21 

had  to  struggle  with  a  childish  desire  to  cry.  She 
wondered  if  it  were  always  to  be  like  this — if  the  mad- 
dening proximity  of  one  man  were  to  scatter  her  self- 
control  to  the  winds  and  to  make  her  feel  as  she  felt 
to-night.  It  seemed  to  her  that  it  could  not  go  on, 
that  it  must  either  wear  her  out  or  she  must  wear  it 
out.  And  yet  it  had  gone  on  for  nearly  two  years. — 

She  moved  from  the  table  to  a  mirror  hanging  on 
the  wall,  and  taking  the  pins  out  of  her  hat,  threw  it 
on  to  a  chair  and  looked  at  herself  in  the  glass.  She 
was  very  pale,  as  if  the  fierceness  of  her  own  feeling 
had  burnt  the  life  out  of  her,  and  her  eyes  looked 
nearly  black  with  distended  pupils.  It  struck  her  as 
horrible,  and  she  shuddered  at  herself,  pressing  the 
dull  gold  hair  back  from  her  hot  forehead  to  try  and 
ease  the  pain  in  her  temples.  She  was  weary  of  her 
own  self-restraint  and  the  ceaseless  watch  she  kept 
upon  her  nerves  and  senses. 

"I  am  tired  of  saying  'No*  to  myself,"  she  said  to 
that  revealing  face  in  the  glass.  'I  want  to  say  one 
big  'Yes  I'  now.  Let  the  whole  world  be  nothing  but 
'Yes'  to  everything  I  want." 

She  had  not  heard  a  step  in  the  house — certainly 
no  one  had  entered  the  room;  but  suddenly  out  of 
the  shadows  of  the  verandah  a  voice  said  "Claudia  1" 
She  paused,  looking  back  from  the  mirror,  her  face 
settling  into  its  mask  of  composure  once  more,  and 
again  the  voice  said  "Claudia!— -Claudia!"  with  urgent 
insistence.  Then  she  turned  and  walked  forward 
deliberately  to  meet  her  husband. 

He  had  come  in  through  the  open  jalousies  that  led 
on  to  the  verandah,  and  she  remembered  that  he  might 
have  walked  all  round  the  bungalow  that  way — from 


22  EXILE 

his  own  room,  or  hers,  or  the  servants'  quarters.  But 
there  was  a  furtiveness  in  his  manner  that  told  her 
at  once  that  he  had  not  apprised  the  household  of  his 
presence  and  did  not  mean  them  to  know.  He  turned 
his  head  from  side  to  side,  looking  up  and  down  the 
long  bright  rooms,  and  switched  off  some  of  the  elec- 
tric light,  leaving  none  save  that  in  the  drawing-room 
near  the  jalousies. 

"Come  further  back  in  the  room,  so  that  we  cannot 
be  seen  from  other  houses,"  he  said  hurriedly,  draw- 
ing her  behind  the  lamps.  "The  place  is  as  light  as 
day!" 

"I  did  not  expect  you  till  next  week,  Edgar,"  Mrs. 
Everard  said  quietly.  "Is  anything  wrong?" 

"Yes — the  game's  up,"  he  said  shortly,  without  any 
preamble.  "There's  only  one  thing  can  save  me  now." 

"The  game !"  repeated  Claudia  blankly.  She  looked 
at  his  narrow,  handsome  face,  as  if  she  saw  it  for  the 
first  time.  Every  betraying  line  of  dissipation  and 
self-indulgence  was  startlingly  distinct  under  the  pres- 
sure of  some  crisis  that  she  could  not  divine, — just  as 
her  own  face  in  the  mirror  had  been  marked  by  her 
secret  passion,  she  remembered.  She  had  known  for 
years  that  there  were  many  things  in  his  life  about 
which  she  was  to  ask  no  questions,  and  had  come  to 
accept  the  position  until  they  lived  in  the  same  house 
more  remote  from  each  other  than  if  they  had  occu- 
pied two  bungalows  miles  apart.  Indeed,  there  were 
many  men  at  the  Club  who  knew  more  of  Edgar 
Everard  than  she  did,  shared  his  coarse  confidence, 
and  could  have  followed  his  career  with  far  more 
comprehension  than  his  wife.  Now  it  seemed  on  the 


EXILE  23 

instant  that  she  was  to  become  an  intimate  again,  a 
friend  in  his  confidence. 

"You  had  better  explain,"  she  said,  leading  the  way 
back  into  the  darkened  drawing-room.  "I  know 
nothing  as  yet." 

"I  have  only  half  an  hour,"  he  said,  glancing  hur- 
riedly at  his  watch.  The  whole  situation  came  back 
to  her  afterwards  as  having  been  breathless,  words 
and  explanations  falling  over  each  other  into  her  con- 
sciousness, stunning  her  with  revelation.  "I  have 
been  in  Banishment — I  heard  no  news." 

"Banishment !  Not  to  Health  then  ?  I  sent  all  your 
correspondence  to  Health !" 

"I  know  you  did, — but  Murgatroyd  forwarded  it. 
I  was  reported  at  Health,  of  course."  He  seemed 
indifferent  to  her  knowing  any  deception  he  had  prac- 
tised on  her  in  the  stress  of  the  moment,  yet  his  words 
told  her  more  than  their  bare  worth.  Men  did  not  go 
to  Banishment  for  change  of  air  as  they  went  to 
Health.  The  place  was  notorious — a  settlement  of 
native  bazaars  and  houses  of  the  lowest  class.  He 
took  it  impatiently  for  granted  that  she  should  know 
that,  and  if  he  had  been  asked  he  would  have  agreed 
that  every  one,  his  wife  included,  must  be  aware  of 
his  Arab  house  in  Banishment.  That  she  should  be 
ignorant  was  a  tiresome  hindrance  at  this  juncture  of 
affairs. 

Mrs.  Everard  put  the  revelation  on  one  side  with 
the  same  composure  to  consider  the  crux  of  the  case. 
He  recognised  with  relief  that  in  a  crisis  she  had  a 
clear  brain,  and  the  capacity  of  a  man  for  grasping 
essentials  and  letting  side  issues  go. 

"You  had  better  tell  me  your  exact  difficulty,  as  we 


24  EXILE 

have  so  little  time,"  she  said.  "You  missed  some 
important  information  through  being  in  Banishment 
and  not  at  Health.  That  I  know.  What  is  this  in- 
formation, and  how  does  it  affect  you?" 

For  a  minute  he  did  not  answer,  and  she  saw  him 
moisten  his  lips  as  if  he  had  some  difficulty  in  form- 
ing the  words.  She  waited  patiently,  thinking  that 
he  was  putting  his  thoughts  in  order  and  condensing 
the  facts  for  her  as  he  might  have  done  in  court. 
Then  he  spoke  suddenly,  with  a  bald  statement  of 
the  case  that  seemed  to  strike  her  dumb. 

"I  wrote  to  Richmond  Hervey  after  I  went  away, 
asking  him  to  join  us  in  the  silk  combine  and  threaten- 
ing him  with  certain  consequences  if  he  did  not.  I 
thought  I  had  him  in  a  vice  and  that  I  could  make  my 
own  terms.  We  wanted  his  name  on  the  directorate 
— Hassan,  and  Jacobs,  and  I;  it  would  have  made 
everything  safe.  But  Hassan  wrote  to  me  to  Health 
to  tell  me  that  we  had  made  a  slip — it  was  madness 
to  ask  Hervey  to  come  in — we  had  been  misinformed. 
I  never  got  his  letter." 

Now  it  was  Mrs.  Everard  who  was  silent,  but  her 
silence  was  so  imperative  that  he  answered  it. 

"I  know — the  one  man  of  all  others  I  should  not 
have  tried  it  on.  But  I  thought  I  had  him  tight — • 
I  tell  you,  I  thought  I  had  him  tight!"  He  hurried 
the  words,  and  raised  his  clenched  hand  in  the  air  to 
show  his  meaning,  as  if  he  must  force  it  on  her  under- 
standing. Then  his  fingers  relaxed  and  his  hand  fell 
on  the  table  heavily.  "The  thing  is  done — Hervey 
holds  that  letter  as  evidence  against  me,"  he  said. 

She  still  looked  at  him  in  that  appalled  silence. 

"It  is  no  case  in  itself,"  he  said ;  but  his  lips  worked 


EXILE  25 

in  a  horrible  manner,  and  his  face  grew  gradually  livid 
as  he  spoke.  "No  action  at  law  can  lie  against  me 
while  I  am  in  office.  But  I  stated  everything  openly 
in  that  letter — I  told  him  how  I  had  cleared  the  way. 
If  he  published  it  and  it  got  known  in  the  bazaars, 
I  could  not  show  my  face  in  the  streets.  I  should 
ask  for  a  police  guard. " 

Then  at  last  she  spoke,  below  her  breath,  but  as  if 
she  saw  something  that  frightened  her  more  than  the 
menace  of  an  Arab  rising. 

"Richmond  Hervey — you  threatened  him  I  You 
must  have  been  madl" 

"Not  mad, — a  gambler,"  he  said  quickly.  "He  was 
our  trump  card  in  the  silk  combine.  We  stood  to  gain 
wealth  that  one  hardly  estimates.  Think  of  it! — 
the  whole  of  the  silk  trade  in  our  hands — we  should 
have  been  millionaires.  But  I  admit  that  I  made  a 
slip  over  Hervey — 1  was  utterly  out."  He  started  as 
some  noise  in  the  house  caught  his  ear,  and  trembled 
like  a  girl.  His  nerve  was  gone,  and  he  showed  as  the 
veriest  coward.  "I  must  go,"  he  said,  half  rising. 
"They're  coming " 

"No,  it  is  only  Abdulla  carrying  in  the  water  jars," 
she  said,  laying  her  hand  imperatively  on  his  arm. 
"Try  to  tell  me  more — what  was  this  scheme — what 
do  you  mean  by  clearing  the  way?" 

"No  time !"  he  muttered.  "It's  too  long  a  tale.  The 
question  is  what  is  going  to  happen  now.  I  shall  go 
out  to  Health " 

"Really  to  Health?"  she  asked  with  unconscious 
irony,  "or  to  Banishment?" 

"No,  of  course— what  folly!  There  is  no  escape 
from  Banishment.  From  Health  I  can  get  up  the 


26  EXILE 

Gulf  or  through  the  Hydromaut  and  go  to  Europe. 
I  shall  wait  there  till  you  wire  me  news." 

"News?"  she  said  half  dully,  staring  at  him  with 
wide  eyes.  She  could  not  grasp  her  part  in  all  this  or 
see  where  it  was  leading  her. 

"Yes,  you  must  stop  here — go  on  for  a  day  or  so 
as  if  nothing  had  happened,  and  find  out  for  me  what 
Hervey  is  going  to  do." 

"How?" 

"How!"  he  echoed  angrily,  almost  violently  in  his 
fear.  "Go  to  him, — or  make  him  come  to  you.  Ask 
him  point-blank — it's  the  only  way  with  him.  Offer 
him  anything. — Do  you  hear?  Anything.  Let  him 
name  his  price  for  the  letter.  He  wants  the  site  of 
Hassan's  place  out  in  Reserve  for  a  power  station — • 
he  can  have  that  and  anything  else  he  likes  to  name. 
Claudia,  make  him  give  you  back  that  letter !" 

His  eyes  were  almost  pitiful;  he  was  childish  in  his 
fear.  It  reached  her  stunned  brain  that  there  was 
much  more  here  than  she  yet  knew — that  a  long  series 
of  events,  piled  up  behind  her  husband,  was  looming 
over  his  head  now,  jagged  and  unmerciful  as  the 
Rocks.  He  was  like  a  man  who  should  see  those 
great  pinnacles  tremble,  threaten  to  fall  on  him — and 
she  could  imagine  nothing  more  awful.  His  terror 
was  somehow  communicated  to  her,  so  that  she  found 
herself  saying,  "No!  no! — you  mustn't  be  afraid — • 
we  will  manage  somehow,"  as  one  might  to  a  child 
in  the  dark. 

"Will  you?"  he  almost  whimpered.  "You've  got 
a  clear  brain,  Claudia — you  will  think  of  something  f 
You  can  make  Hervey  attend  to  you — you're  the  only 
woman  in  Exile  he  respects,  except  Lady  Stroud.  Yes, 


EXILE  27 

he'll  have  to  listen  to  what  you  suggest! — When  will 
you  see  him  ?"  he  broke  off,  rising  with  a  little  shiver. 

"I  am  dining  at  Government  House  to-morrow 
night — -I  mean  I  was,"  said  Mrs.  Everard,  putting  her 
hands  to  her  loosened  hair  as  if  a  little  confused.  "Do 
you  still  want  me  to  go?" 

"Good  God!  Yes,  of  course!"  he  said  impatiently. 
"It's  imperative  to  go  on  in  the  ordinary  way  as  long 
as  we  can.  Will  Hervey  be  there?" 

"I— think  so." 

"Get  hold  of  him,  and  tell  him  you  want  an  inter- 
view. And,  Claudia" — he  turned  his  head  in  that 
same  hunted  fashion  even  as  he  was  leaving  the  room 
— "you  might  begin  to  pack  up — just  a  few  things — ' 
in  case  .  .  .  Only  don't  alarm  the  servants — don't 
let  it  get  to  the  bazaars !" 

She  nodded — she  was  beyond  words.  But  she  called 
after  him  under  her  breath,  "Where  are  you  going — 
now  ?" 

"The  motor  is  in  the  road  below.  It  will  take  me 
to  Hassan's  to-night.  I  shall  go  on  to  Health  to- 
morrow. Murgatroyd  will  get  any  news  through  for 
me — don't  write  direct — send  it  by  him." 

She  heard  his  foot  fall  softly  on  the  verandah — a 
stealthy  step,  like  a  thief's.  Then  she  felt  rather  than 
heard  him  cross  the  compound  and  drop  down  into 
the  road.  He  was  gone  almost  before  she  knew  that 
he  had  come;  but  in  this  short  half-hour  it  seemed  to 
her  that  he  had  laid  the  house  in  ruins  all  about  her — • 
broken  up  her  home  life — altered  the  face  of  all  the 
outer  world.  The  inner  world — her  world,  with  its 
centre-piece  of  hidden  passion — he  could  not  alter, 
because  he  had  neither  part  nor  lot  in  it. 


28  EXILE 

Mrs.  Everard  sat  still  at  the  little  table  long  after 
he  had  gone,  her  head  resting  in  her  hands.  Before 
her  hidden  eyes  she  saw  the  long  road  over  the  desert 
that  led  to  Health,  the  boundary  station,  beyond  which 
was  the  chance  of  escape  to  the  Arabian  coast.  Along 
this  road  she  saw  the  dusty  tracks  of  the  motor  car 
carrying  her  husband  to  precarious  safety  on  the  mor- 
row— saw  it  quite  distinctly  as  a  stereoscopic  view 
before  her  hidden  eyes.  It  would  take  him  thirteen 
hours  to  get  to  Health  travelling  all  day.  And  he 
would  be  off  at  sunrise.  That  would  bring  him  to  the 
boundary  station  at  eight  o'clock,  just  as  she  was 
dressing  for  dinner  at  Government  House.  But  be- 
yond that  hour  her  thoughts  would  not  go.  When  she 
tried  to  push  them  a  little  further  to  see  what  lay  be- 
fore her  at  Government  House,  she  turned  very  sick, 
and  a  violent  shivering  took  hold  of  all  her  limbs,  even 
in  the  hot  air  circulating  round  her  with  the  electric 
fans.  She  was  surprised  to  find  that  her  teeth  chat- 
tered a  little,  and  the  hands  before  her  face  shook. 
For  she  was  frightened — horribly  frightened — even  in 
anticipation. 


CHAPTER  II 

"We  were  young,  we  were  merry,  we  were  very,  very  wise? 
And  the  door  stood  open  at  our  feast, 
When  there  pass'd  us  a  woman  with  the  West  in  her  eyes, 
And  a  man  with  his  back  to  the  East." 

MARY  E.  COLERIDGE. 

WHEN  Lady  Stroud  and  Barbara  Play  fair  en- 
tered the  Club  they  walked  straight  on  past 
the  big  reading-room  where  the  dances  were  held,  and 
out  onto  the  verandah  and  the  bridge  tables.  The  group 
of  men  whom  Mrs.  Everard  had  bowed  to  broke  up 
at  the  appearance  of  the  Government  House  party, 
and  two  of  them,  Rodney  Haines  and  Dr.  Bride,  came 
forward  to  greet  Lady  Stroud.  The  rest  of  the  men 
raised  their  hats  and  melted  away,  Bunney  and  Yar- 
row to  the  bar  for  whisky  and  soda  and  Richmond 
Hervey  to  the  empty  seat  beside  Mrs.  Bride.  Nobody 
looked  after  him — it  is  not  etiquette  to  look  after  a 
man  who  steals  his  neighbour's  wife  in  Exile,  though 
every  one  present  was  acutely  conscious  of  his  action, 
and  that  no  other  man  would  have  done  a  thing  so 
blatant  in  the  face  of  the  Club.  For  the  Club  is  pub- 
lic opinion  in  Exile,  and  Richmond  Hervey  set  it  at 
nought  Other  couples  would  have  joined  each  other 
outside  in  the  dark  of  the  road  beyond  the  lamps,  per- 
haps to  drive  home  together,  but  with  a  certain  de- 
cency of  reserve.  Those  had  never  been  Hervey's 
methods. 

29 


30  EXILE 

He  dropped  heavily  into  the  basket-chair,  which 
creaked  under  his  weight,  and  looked  at  his  victim. 
The  twitching  hands  were  still  playing  with  the  fringes 
to  the  ostrich  boa  round  her  neck,  and  some  mental 
strain  was  drawing  two  unbecoming  lines  between 
her  straight  dark  brows.  Hervey  regarded  her  be- 
neath his  level  eyelids  as  if  she  were  the  problem  of 
an  old  story  that  hardly  interested  him. 

"Well,  my  dear?" 

The  woman  broke  out  at  once,  speaking  furiously 
though  under  her  breath,  all  her  quivering  nerves 
driving  her  to  reckless  indiscretion. 

"You've  been  here  an  hour,  and  never  come  to  speak 
to  me  until  now!  You've  never  been  near  me  for  a 
week.  You  know  I'm  going  home  by  the  Mail  to- 
morrow. What  do  you  mean  by  it?  What  do  you 
mean?"  If  her  voice  had  not  been  under  control 
through  the  force  of  circumstances  it  would  have  been 
a  wail. 

"You  were  gabbling  to  Mrs.  Everard  all  the  after- 
noon. You  didn't  want  me  to  make  a  third,  did  you?" 
Hervey's  voice  was  almost  bored.  In  truth  he  was 
bored  at  this  point  in  the  proceedings.  He  had  been 
through  it  so  often  before  that  he  knew  each  stage 
that  was  coming.  There  were  several  types  of  women 
that  he  knew — the  adventurous,  who  called  an  in- 
trigue "sport" ;  the  feeble-minded,  who  called  it  "sin" 
(but  sinned  none  the  less)  ;  the  hysterical,  who  turned 
upon  herself  and  him  and  rent  both  of  them  in  her  re- 
morse; the  sensualist,  who  gave  too  freely  and  grew 
frightened  too  late.  Mrs.  Bride  belonged  to  the  hys- 
terical type. 

"Why  should  I  want  to  talk  to  Mrs.  Everard  ?"  she 


EXILE  31 

burst  out  stormily,  still  wrought  up  to  the  height  of 
her  despair.  "That  stick! — but  she's  respectable.  It's 
come  to  a  pass  when  I  have  to  choose  my  company  to 
outweigh  the  scandal  of  your  attentions !" 

He  moved  a  little  restlessly,  almost  uneasily,  and 
she  thought  that  she  had  touched  him.  But  it  was 
the  name  of  the  Chief  Justice's  wife  which  had  given 
him  the  momentary  pin-prick.  He  thought  sometimes 
that  he  should  end  by  hating  Claudia  Everard  for  the 
sullen  shame  she  roused  in  him,  though  he  knew  her 
sublimely  unconscious  of  it. 

"She  is  certainly  respectable!"  he  said  with  a  slight 
sneer.  "You  might  have  chosen  some  other  woman 
who  was  not  quite  such  a  stick." 

"There  is  none,  except  Lady  Stroud,  with  a  repu- 
tation like  Mrs.  Everard's!"  said  Mrs.  Bride  harshly. 
"You  know  that, — they  have  mostly  been  through 
your  hands " 

"You  do  me  too  much  honour!"  he  suggested  ironi- 
cally. 

"Or  somebody  else's.  I  daresay  there  are  plenty  of 
other  poor  devils,  even  in  Exile,  who  wished  they 
had  died  sooner  than  have  ever  seen  you.  You've 
behaved  disgracefully  to  me,  Richmond — disgrace- 
fully!" 

She  drew  her  throat  back  and  her  eyes  blazed  at 
him.  She  was  a  little,  thin  woman  with  big  eyes  and 
a  restless  mouth.  It  had  interested  him  to  see  her  face 
alter  beyond  her  control  under  his  handling.  It  was 
like  playing  on  a  finely  strung  instrument.  The  last 
woman — the  one  before  her — had  been  somewhat  like 
a  doll,  he  remembered,  and  they  had  bored  each  other 
very  soon.  He  yawned.  He  was  a  little  bored  now. 


32  EXILE 

"Disgraceful,"  he  repeated,  as  if  taking  up  her  last 
word  with  a  certain  politeness.  "Well,  what  comes 
next?" 

"Next?" — she  gave  a  short  laugh.  "I'm  going  home 
to-morrow." 

"Are  you  sorry?"  he  asked,  almost  curiously. 

"No!"  she  hurled  at  him.  "I'm  glad— I'm  glad  to 
get  away  from  it  all.  I  wish  I'd  never  looked  at  you 
— never  had  anything  to  do  with  you.  Why  haven't 
you  been  to  see  me  for  a  week  ?"  she  harked  back,  her 
voice  trembling  a  little  as  if  she  would  like  to  cry. 

"Because  I  was  out  at  Reserve,  at  the  water- 
works— i — " 

"Because  you  were  tired  of  the  whole  thing  1"  she 
interrupted  ruthlessly.  "You  meant  to  bring  it  all 
to  an  end  like  this  and  save  a  scene.  You  thought 
I  should  make  a  scene  1  Well,  I  would  if  I  thought 
that  you  would  hate  that  most." 

"Did  you  want  a  scene?"  he  asked  without  even 
glancing  at  her.  "I  am  sorry  I  did  not  oblige  you. 
If  you  had  told  me,  I  really  would  have  given  you  a 
chance, — though  I  was  pressed  for  time,"  he  added 
thoughtfully. 

She  rose  suddenly,  pushing  back  her  chair,  her  be- 
traying hands  hidden  under  the  ostrich  boa.  "Ritchie, 
you  are  a  brute — a  brute  beast  and  nothing  more," 
she  said  with  a  sudden  quiet.  "It  hasn't  been  your 
fault — it  has  been  mine.  I  was  idle  and  vicious,  and 
you  were  only  the  means  to  the  end.  Good-bye,  and 
when  you  think  of  me  remember  that  there  was  one 
woman  who  despised  you  as  her  own  tool." 

She  left  him  standing  by  the  two  empty  chairs  and 
hurried  across  to  the  verandah.  He  followed 


EXILE  33 

leisurely,  and  heard  her  saying  good-bye  to  Lady 
Stroud  and  speaking  of  her  departure  on  the  morrow. 
It  struck  him  as  a  situation  at  which  he  had  assisted 
many  times  before — only  the  last  woman  had  said 
that  she  despised  him  as  he  deserved;  it  was  rather 
more  original  to  call  him  a  tool.  It  did  not  upset  him 
in  the  least,  because  he  knew  that  the  fault  had  been 
equal  on  both  sides.  If  he  had  tempted,  Mrs.  Bride 
had  stretched  out  empty  hands  for  the  temptation. 
"Idle  and  vicious";  yes,  they  were  mostly  that  in 
Exile.  That  he  was  not  so  idle  as  most  perhaps  proved 
him  the  more  vicious. 

He  watched  Mrs.  Bride  join  her  husband  and  leave 
the  Club  with  him  to  find  their  car.  Tommy  would  be 
alone  to-morrow,  and  would  no  doubt  console  him- 
self in  his  turn.  .  .  .  Then  he  found  that  Lady  Stroud 
was  speaking  to  him. 

"I'm  so  disappointed  you  can't  dine  with  us  to- 
morrow, Mr.  Hervey.  Are  you  sure  you  cannot  get 
away?" 

"I  am  afraid  I  shall  be  out  at  Reserve  until  too  late, 
Lady  Stroud.  I  don't  get  back  as  a  rule  until  eight 
o'clock  or  half-past,  and  I'm  hardly  in  a  fit  state  to 
appear  as  I  am  I" 

"Those  darling  waterworks  of  yours  I  I  believe  you 
are  the  only  man  in  Exile  who  really  likes  his  work. 
Well,  come  on  after  dinner  and  have  a  chat  with  my 
husband.  He  says  he  has  not  seen  you  to  speak  to 
since  we  have  been  back." 

"Thanks—if  I  may." 

"Hervey,"  said  Captain  Bunney,  returning1  from 
his  whisky  and  soda,  "will  you  cut  in  with  me?  Yar- 
row has  to  leave,  and  Haines  has  failed  us." 


34  EXILE 

Hervey  nodded,  looking  as  he  passed  to  see  why 
Haines  preferred  to  sit  out,  and  found  him  still  talk- 
ing to  Miss  Playfair.  Her  open  enjoyment  of  the 
novel  scene  round  her  (it  must  be  reiterated  that  she 
had  only  just  arrived  from  England)  seemed  to  amuse 
or  interest  the  Colonial  Secretary,  for  his  nervous,  sen- 
sitive face  was  turned  towards  her  with  a  certain 
kindliness  that  made  him  rather  winning.  Hervey 
had  sometimes  had  a  dim  idea  that  if  Claudia  Everard 
felt  any  interest  in  a  man  other  than  her  husband  Rod- 
ney Haines  would  be  the  man,  and  he  wondered 
whether  this  new  arrival  would  really  attract  Haines, 
and  whether  Mrs.  Everard  would  feel  any  pain  in 
consequence.  He  would  never  know — with  a  woman 
of  that  type  one  never  could  know — but  the  thought 
gave  him  a  certain  streak  of  satisfaction.  He  could 
not  forgive  Mrs.  Everard  her  superiority  to  human 
weakness,  and  it  made  him  almost  petty  in  his  resent- 
ment. 

Barbara  Playfair's  candid  eyes  had  rested  on  him 
also  as  he  passed  to  the  bridge  table,  with  the  same 
questioning  look  she  had  given  to  the  ships  and  the 
outline  of  Banishment  islet  and  the  little  club-house. 

"Who  is  that  big  man  who  has  just  passed  us?"  she 
asked  Haines,  her  voice  a  little  lowered  so  that  it 
sounded  almost  confidential.  "He  looks  so  dreadfully 
strong — he  must  be  somebody." 

"Quite  right,  Miss  Playfair;  he  is  very  much  some- 
body in  Exile.  He  is  the  man  who  brought  water 
from  the  solid  rock,  in  Biblical  phrase,  and  made  it 
possible  for  us  all  to  be  here.  Before  Richmond  Her- 
vey there  was  only  an  E.  T.  Station  and  a  gunboat 
in  the  bay." 


EXILE  35 

"I  felt  sure  he  was  somebody,"  the  girl  insisted,  de- 
lighted with  her  own  acuteness.  "Can't  you  always 
tell?  I  can.  I  somehow  sense  strong  people." 

"You  must  go  out  to  Reserve  and  see  Hervey's 
waterworks.  He's  just  endowed  us  with  the  electric 
light,  and  wants  half  the  town  for  a  power  station." 

"I  should  love  to  see  them!" 

Haines  laughed  half  tenderly,  as  at  a  child.  "You 
shall  see  everything!"  he  promised.  "There  are  won- 
derful silks  to  buy  in  Reserve  at  the  shop  of  one  Has- 
san, who  is  an  Arab  trader." 

"I  think  the  Arabs  are  so  interesting !" 

"He  makes  a  very  good  picture.  Do  you  take  pho- 
tographs?" 

"Oh,  yes — I  got  some  snap-shots  at  Port  Said,  and 
as  we  passed  Suez  and  Perim,  but  it  was  too  dark  at 
Aden,  we  got  in  so  late." 

"What  a  shame!    Did  you  enjoy  the  voyage?" 

"Every  moment  of  it.  We  had  such  nice  people  on 
board!" 

"That  you  were  quite  sorry  to  tranship  at  Aden?" 
He  spoke  teasingly,  but  there  was  the  faint  resent- 
ment of  the  male  in  his  tone  who  suspects  the  pres- 
ence of  other  males. 

"I  liked  the  Connection  boat,  too.  And  then  it  was 
only  for  two  or  three  days,  and  then  this !"  She  drew 
a  long  breath  of  pure  pleasure,  and  turned  her  glad 
young  eyes  on  the  scene  before  her — the  bored  men 
playing  bridge,  the  women  looking  at  out-of-date  il- 
lustrated papers,  the  dying  sky  behind  Banishment 
islet,  the  little,  strange,  un-English  club-house. 

Perhaps  it  struck  Haines  as  a  little  pathetic,  this 
idealising  of  Exile  Club  by  an  untried  nature.  He 


36  EXILE 

looked  round  him  with  his  understanding  eyes  and 
wondered  whether  it  seemed  otherwise  than  a  poor 
alternative  for  better  distractions  to  any  one  else 
present?  They  all  liked  the  Club  because  it  was  the 
only  decent  place  to  go  to;  they  all  hated  it  because 
it  was  Exile.  To  this  girl,  fresh  out  from  England, 
it  was  new,  and  startling,  and  ravishing  with  possibili- 
ties. 

"You  think  you  shall  like  Exile?"  he  said,  and 
again  there  was  that  lingering  tenderness  in  his  voice 
that  he  used  for  children. 

*'I  shall  love  itl"  said  the  girl  frankly.  And  she 
looked  at  Rodney  Haines  for  a  moment  as  if  she  loved 
him  too — the  love  of  a  child  for  some  one  who  is  tak- 
ing it  to  a  pantomime.  But  he  would  have  been  in- 
teresting, even  without  Exile.  What  sad  blue  eyes  he 
had! — merry  and  sad  at  once;  and  what  a  curious, 
changeable  face.  She  thought  him  rather  old — he 
was  thirty-eight — and  wondered  if  he  were  married 
and  what  his  wife  was  like.  And  Rodney  Haines, 
looking  at  her,  thought  that  she  put  him  in  mind  of 
Mendelssohn's  Spring  Song.  There  was  always  some- 
thing a  little  pathetic  in  the  Spring  Song  to  him,  de- 
spite its  gaiety.  Or  was  it  a  Chanson  of  Chaminade's  ? 

Lady  Stroud  had  played  out  two  rubbers  before  the 
Admiral  appeared  to  take  them  home,  and  then  they 
had  to  linger  while  he  had  a  whisky  and  soda,  and 
talked  to  one  and  another.  Richmond  Hervey  was 
going  out  of  the  Club  as  he  was  coming  in,  and  said, 
"Good-night,  sir;  I  am  coming  up  to  Government 
House  to-morrow  night.  Lady  Stroud  says  I  may 
turn  up  after  dinner." 

"Can't  you  dine?"  said  the  Admiral  with  regret. 


EXILE  37 

"Too  busy?  Well,  come  as  soon  as  you  can — 'for  the 
Lord's  sake,  my  dear  man,  let  me  have  somebody  to 
talk  to  who  is  not  on  the  Staff  1"  They  laughed  and 
parted.  It  was  curious  how  other  men  liked  Hervey, 
despite  his  follies  with  women. 

His  car  was  waiting  for  him  outside  the  Club,  and 
he  got  into  the  front  seat  and  drove  himself  home, 
though  almost  any  other  man  would  have  left  it  to 
his  Arab  chauffeur.  Hervey's  bungalow  lay  out  in 
the  sandy  stretch  of  desert  beyond  the  Fort,  a  little 
off  the  road  to  Health.  It  was  an  equal  distance  from 
the  Fort  and  from  Reserve,  and  he  was  in  telephonic 
communication  with  both  places.  The  singing  lines 
of  the  telegraph  accompanied  him  all  the  way,  and  the 
desert  winds  played  on  the  wires  and  drew  strange 
notes  from  them  that  sounded  like  semitones  and  now 
and  then  a  chord.  The  road  did  not  ascend  at  all,  but 
ran  at  the  foot  of  the  Rocks,  and  Hervey  gradually  in- 
creased the  pace  as  he  got  beyond  the  Fort  until  the 
"Luna"  hummed  along  at  fifty  miles  an  hour.  Away 
on  his  right  lay  the  turning  that  led  up  into  the  Rocks 
and  the  lights  of  the  Chief  Justice's  bungalow.  He 
looked  up  as  he  passed  below  it,  and  that  ugly  smile 
was  again  on  his  lips. 

The  wind  across  the  desert  was  as  cold  as  ice  with 
the  speed  of  the  car,  and  when  they  left  the  telegraph 
poles  and  swung  off  to  their  left  the  Arab  chauffeur 
uttered  a  prayer  of  gratitude  to  Allah,  though  he  had 
sat  beside  his  master  without  a  shiver.  There  was  an 
Arab  village  here  called  Golgotha,  and  the  flare  of 
its  lamps  made  a  lurid  glow  in  the  distance.  Nearer 
at  hand  were  the  outlines  of  several  two-storied  bun- 
galows and  the  tossing  plumes  of  date  palms,  for  the 


38  EXILE 

brackish  wells  of  the  desert  made  cultivation  of  some 
sort  more  possible  than  on  the  rock  foundation  of 
Fort.  The  largest  house  in  the  district  was  Hervey's, 
and  its  garden  stretched  out  around  it  in  unequalled 
luxuriance;  but  directly  across  the  road  was  another 
bungalow,  not  much  smaller,  though  less  well  built. 
This  place  was  empty  of  permanent  owners,  but  was 
often  taken  by  people  who  wanted  a  change  from  the 
Fort,  and  it  was  here  that  the  Admiral  and  Lady 
Stroud  put  up  when  they  broke  the  journey  to  Health. 
It  belonged  to  Hassan,  the  silk  merchant,  who  kept  it 
half-furnished  for  chance  visitors.  It  was  known  as 
"Half-way  House." 

Hervey  swung  the  car  through  the  gates  and  up  the 
sandy  drive  to  the  front  of  his  own  bungalow,  where 
his  white-liveried  servants  received  him  and  bowed 
him  in.  It  was  a  large  house,  with  high  rooms  that 
looked  almost  vast  from  the  fashion  in  Exile  of  one 
apartment  leading  out  of  another  until  they  were  noth- 
ing but  a  dim  vista  of  pillars  and  space.  He  went 
through  the  dining-room  and  into  his  own  library  and 
study,  and  sat  down  at  his  writing-desk.  There  were 
several  letters  and  a  telephone  message  that  had  ar- 
rived during  the  afternoon.  He  took  up  the  receiver 
of  his  own  telephone  and  rang  up  at  once,  leaning  his 
elbows  on  the  great  rolled-top  desk. 

"Put  me  on  to  the  waterworks  at  Reserve,"  he  said 
quietly.  And  a  minute  later  he  was  talking  as  com- 
posedly as  if  face  to  face  with  the  clerk  in  charge. 

"Oh,  is  that  you,  Myers?  .  .  .  Yes,  I've  had  your 
message  .  .  .  sorry  to  keep  you  waiting  at  the  works. 
.  .  .  You  have  seen  Hassan  personally?  .  .  .  That  is 
his  final  answer  ?  .  .  Let  me  understand — he  refuses 


EXILE  39 

to  sell  any  property  at  all  in  Reserve  ?  .  .  .  I  had  bet- 
ter have  that  in  writing.  Post  it  to-night  .  .  .  No, 
don't  see  him  again — even  if  he  asks.  .  .  .  We  take 
that  as  his  final  answer.  .  .  .  Yes,  quite  right.  You 
can  go  as  soon  as  you  have  written  that  letter.  .  .  . 
Good  night !" 

He  rang  off  and  put  the  receiver  back  on  the  rest. 
Then  he  sat  still  for  a  moment  looking  straight  before 
him,  and  then  he  laughed — the  same  laugh  that  had 
startled  Rodney  Haines  at  the  Club. 

Hassan  had  not  seen  the  Chief  Justice  yet,  that  was 
obvious,  or  they  had  not  elaborated  a  new  plan  of 
campaign.  The  site  for  the  power  station  was  being 
held  back  as  an  additional  bait — or  else  as  a  desperate 
bribe  for  his  silence?  Fools!  He  laughed  again  as 
he  thought  of  the  contents  of  Everard's  letter — that 
priceless  letter  that  lay  in  the  safe  upstairs  in  his 
bedroom.  That  any  man  could  run  his  head  into  a 
noose  as  Everard  had  done  seemed  to  Hervey  the  last 
rash  act  of  a  brainsick  fool.  He  had  almost  admired 
Everard's  ruthless  mishandling  of  justice — it  seemed 
so  fearless  in  its  wickedness ;  but  the  man  must  be  but 
a  blundering  villain  after  all  to  so  miscalculate.  He 
knew  as  well  as  Everard  where  the  danger  to  him  lay, 
and  that  there  was  one  dread  before  which  he  cringed 
as  a  coward — the  fear  of  bodily  harm  and  death.  He 
who  had  mishandled  the  law  for  his  own  purpose  was 
terrified  of  the  rough  justice  that  stood  without  the 
law.  He  was  frightened  of  the  Arab  population.  The 
Chief  Justice  had  always  sheltered  himself  behind  his 
official  authority;  once  let  it  be  known  in  the  bazaars 
that  he  had  abused  it,  that  by  his  own  showing  he  had 
falsely  sentenced  the  small  traders,  and  popular  feel- 


4O  EXILE 

ing  might  take  the  law  into  its  own  hands.  He  was 
bound  to  the  Jews,  too,  against  whom  there  was  smoul- 
dering feeling  amongst  the  Arabs,  and  had  sacrificed 
certain  Arab  traders  to  Jacobs  &  Co.* — it  was  all  set 
forth  with  shameless  clearness  in  that  damning  letter. 
The  man  was  certainly  a  fool!  Hervey  had  no  use 
for  failure  or  weakness,  and  the  Chief  Justice  had 
first  failed  and  then  run  away.  He  knew  that  Everard 
was  not  coming  back  to  Fort  on  the  expected  date,  and 
he  guessed  that  he  would  take  flight  for  Health  the 
minute  he  found  that  he  had  implicated  himself. 

Suddenly  he  remembered  Mrs.  Everard,  and  a  little 
cold  curiosity  crept  into  his  eyes.  In  hitting  the  hus- 
band he  could  perhaps  get  a  double  blow  at  the  wife. 
He  was  shrewd  enough  to  guess  what  others  would 
not  have  credited — that  she  was,  or  had  been,  abso- 
lutely in  the  dark  with  regard  to  her  husband's  fraud- 
ulent convictions,  and  that  it  would  be  a  blow  dealt 
straight  at  her  pride  and  her  confidence.  It  would  go 
hard  with  such  a  woman,  and  he  was  not  sorry,  though 
he  told  himself  that  he  pitied  her.  This  was  the  con- 
ventional phrase,  beneath  which  lay  the  sting  of  his 
scorn  of  himself  under  her  passing  glance.  It  would 
be  a  better  revenge  on  Mrs.  Everard  than  any  he  could 
have  planned  in  petty  malice,  and  he  hugged  it  in  se- 
cret, telling  himself  that  he  had  not  planned  it,  that 
he  could  not  avoid  it,  and  that  things  must  simply  take 
their  course.  He  had  all  the  cards  in  his  hands,  and 
he  was  simply  playing  a  waiting  game.  One  after  the 
other  Everard  and  his  wife  would  feel  the  whip  lash 
of  his  unbending  determination. 

He  thought  of  Mrs.  Everard,  curiously  enough,  far 
more  often  than  of  Mrs.  Bride,  despite  the  intimate 


EXILE  41 

relations  that  had  been  only  lately  broken  between  him 
and  the  latter.  That  scene  to-night  at  the  Club  had 
ended  it  in  his  mind — these  things  always  ended  so, 
more  or  less — and  he  drew  down  the  curtain  with  a 
cynical  shrug,  conscious  that  she  was  in  reality  as 
relieved  as  he,  though  her  passionate  protest  might 
salve  her  own  conscience.  She  had  had  no  least  spark 
of  love  for  him;  no  woman  ever  had  loved  him  that 
he  could  remember,  though  too  many  had  made  it  a 
plea  to  outrage  love's  most  sacred  rights.  He  looked 
at  his  face  in  the  glass  that  night  as  he  went  to  bed, 
and  he  did  not  wonder.  But  the  fascination  of  his 
strength  and  his  brutality  and  his  position  in  Exile 
had  answered  as  well  as  the  attractions  of  gentler  men. 
He  thought  that  he  had  had  all  he  wanted.  It  was 
noticeable  that  even  Mrs.  Bride  herself  had  not  sug- 
gested his  coming  on  board  the  Connection  steamer  to 
see  her  off,  though  half  Exile  would  be-  there.  She 
realised  as  well  as  he  that  the  incident  was  over.  Her- 
vey's  mind  harked  back  to  Mrs.  Everard  rather  than 
Mrs.  Bride;  he  was  wondering  how  soon  she  would 
raise  her  eyes  and  see  the  sword  hanging  over  her 
husband's  head. 

"She's  a  good  woman,"  said  Hervey  with  a  sneer. 

"I  suppose  she'll  pray — or  cry !" 

*  *    '  *  *  * 

The  Admiral  and  Lady  Stroud  got  small  chance  for 
comparing  notes  or  for  confidence  in  the  busy  round 
of  their  duties;  but  as  they  dressed  for  dinner  they 
were  apt  to  pass  comments  to  each  other  on  the  events 
of  the  day  in  English,  Lady  Stroud's  maid  having 
been  carefully  imported  from  India  before  she  had 
learned  any  language  but  her  own.  As  for  the  Ad- 


42  EXILE 

miral,  he  had  his  servant,  of  course,  but  took  care  to 
leave  him  outside  the  dressing-room  until  called  for. 
The  man  stood  on  the  mat  to  be  sworn  at,  he  said. 

Lady  Stroud  had  been  full  of  Barbara,  her  frank 
ignorance  and  her  possibilities  of  charm.  A  girl  was 
rather  a  breathless  charge  in  Exile,  where  the  species 
was  practically  unknown. 

"When  you  come  to  think  of  it,  every  other  woman 
is  married,"  she  said.  "Except  the  Brides'  French 
governess,  and  she's  gone  to  Health  with  the  children 
while  Mrs.  Bride  is  away." 

The  Admiral  was  quarrelling  with  his  collar-stud, 
and  said  "Harump-hough !"  just  like  an  angry  ele- 
phant. It  did  not  refer  to  the  governess,  for  he  had 
never  seen  her,  but  to  his  tingling  fingers.  He  had 
come  into  Lady  Stroud's  room,  where  the  light  was 
better,  and  had  taken  possession  of  the  glass;  but 
having  banished  his  servant  to  the  mat  outside  his 
dressing-room  door  he  had  no  outlet  for  his  feelings. 

"By  the  way,  Jonathan,"  went  on  her  Excellency, 
trying  to  look  round  his  raised  elbow  to  see  that  her 
hair  was  all  right  (the  Admiral  was  really  selfish  over 
the  looking-glass),  "I  did  not  know  where  to  look  this 
evening  at  the  Club — I'm  thankful  she's  going  home! 
Mr.  Hervey  is  too  atrocious — one  tries  not  to  see,  but 
he  thrusts  it  on  one !" 

"What's  the  matter  with  Hervey?"  said  the  Ad- 
miral, dropping  his  arm.  The  collar-stud  had  yielded 
to  superior  force,  but  had  given  as  good  as  it  got. 
He  rubbed  his  fingers. 

"Why,  Mr.  Hervey's  affair  with  Mrs.  Bride!  It 
has  been  too  outspoken.  I  felt  as  if  I  were  counte- 


EXILE  43 

nancing  it.  He  went  straight  to  her  side  and  sat  and 
talked  to  her  alone  at  the  Club!" 

"Seems  to  me  it's  a  good  deal  more  decent  to  be 
above  board,  if  he  wants  to  talk  to  her,  than  to  wait  till 
all  your  backs  are  turned!  Why  shouldn't  a  man  go 
and  sit  by  a  woman  at  the  Club?" 

"Oh,  if  it's  all  right  between  them! — but  it  isn't." 

"It's  never  been  proved  that  it  isn't.  Even  Bride 
has  never  objected." 

"He's  been  with  her  everywhere — he  was  always  at 
their  house " 

"That's  no  proof,"  said  the  Admiral  obstinately. 

"Oh,  my  dear,  who  wants  proof  when  we  all 
know?"  said  Lady  Stroud  in  despair. 

The  Admiral  exploded  in  muffled  mirth.  "Truly 
feminine  reasoning!"  he  said.  "You  can't  prove  it, 
but  you  know  it  all  the  same!  Let  Hervey  alone, 
Fanny — 'he's  a  good  man  for  the  Government." 

"He's  a  very  bad  one  for  the  private  citizen!"  re- 
torted her  ladyship,  wrinkling  her  brows  with  annoy- 
ance, for  she  was  a  kindly  woman  and  hated  to  think 
ill  of  any  one.  But  Hervey  had  put  himself  beyond 
the  pale  of  charity.  "There  was  Colonel  Deane's 
wife,  the  one  that  went  to  India,  and  Mrs.  Peters,  and 
that  Smyth  woman.  It's  been  a  succession  of  scandals 
ever  since  we  came,  and  I  have  no  doubt  there  were 
heaps  before!" 

The  Admiral  had  taken  up  his  wife's  brushes,  and 
was  absent-mindedly  patting  his  hair  flat,  for  it  had 
a  tendency  to  curl,  which  was  unbecoming  to  a  Gov- 
ernor. He  was  a  handsome  man  and  he  knew  it,  and 
Lady  Stroud  knew  it  too  and  rejoiced  in  it. 

"Mrs.  Deane  had  a  past  before  ever  she  came  to 


44  EXILE 

Exile,  and  so -had  the  other  women  by  all  accounts," 
he  said  shrewdly. 

"Yes,  but  the  worst  of  Mr.  Hervey  is  that  when 
he  meets  a  woman  with  a  past  he  always  tries  to  make 
it  a  present!" 

The  Admiral  roared.  "Well,  it's  no  use  blaming 
him  so  long  as  the  women  themselves  don't  do  so!" 
he  said  shrewdly.  "And  apparently  they  like  it.  I 
deprecate  scandal  as  much  as  you  do,  but  this  place  is 
full  of  it.  Look  at  my  Acting  Chief  Justice  and  his 
house  at  Banishment — about  which,  of  course,  I  know 
nothing!  I'm  glad  Hervey's  coming  in  to-morrow 
night  anyway,"  he  added  in  a  brisker  tone.  "And  so 
are  you  too,  whatever  you  think  of  him." 

"I  think  he's  a  horrid  man!"  said  Lady  Stroud  in- 
dignantly. "And  I  like  him  so  much  too!" 

The  Admiral  kissed  her.  "Am  I  all  right  ?"  he  said. 
"Where's  that  scoundrel  of  mine?  I've  no  tie!" 

"You  look  beautiful!"  said  Lady  Stroud  with  con- 
viction. "Don't  say  anything  to  him  very  loud,  Jona- 
than. I  am  afraid  Barbara  might  hear — all  the  rooms 
are  so  open!" 


CHAPTER  III 

"Sweet  is  the  music  of  Arabia 

In  my  heart,  when  out  of  dreams 
I  still  in  the  thin  clear  mists  of  dawn 
Descry  her  gliding  streams. 

"Still  eyes  look  coldly  upon  me, 

Cold  voices  whisper  and  say, 
'He  is  crazed  with  the  spell  of  far  Arabia, 
They  have  stolen  his  wits  away.' " 

WALTER  DE  LA  MARE. 

WHEN  the  sun  rose  it  found  the  Rocks  standing 
stark  and  colourless  against  the  grey  sky.  The 
early  morning  is  frequently  cloudy  in  Exile,  and  the 
full  glare  of  day  does  not  come  until  ten  or  eleven 
o'clock.  Sometimes  a  few  drops  of  rain  will  fall 
from  the  clouds,  and  a  very  cold  wind  blows  off  the 
desert.  But  it  only  rains  in  reality  once  or  twice  in 
the  year,  and  then  the  baked  roofs  of  the  houses  crack 
and  strain  and  let  in  torrents  of  water,  being  shrunken 
with  long  drought.  At  Government  House  a  real  rain 
meant  rushing  into  the  drawing-room  and  dining- 
room  with  baths  and  cloths  and  receptacles  of  all 
kinds,  and  then  there  was  considerable  damage  done  to 
the  carpets  and  furniture  before  it  was  over. 

Mrs.  Everard  got  up  as  soon  as  it  was  light  and 
went  out  into  the  verandah  beyond  her  bedroom.  She 
had  not  slept  much,  and  the  chill  of  the  dawn  was  wel- 

45 


46  EXILE 

come  to  her.  All  night  she  had  been  measuring  the 
miles  that  lay  between  her  and  her  husband — the  phys- 
ical miles  that  seemed  so  trivial  and  the  mental  miles 
that  had  grown  so  vast.  He  was  only  a  short  distance 
away,  in  Reserve,  lying  at  Hassan's  house,  but  since 
yesterday  he  seemed  to  her  to  have  withdrawn  to  the 
uttermost  limits  of  the  desert.  As  soon  as  dawn  came 
he  would  start  on  his  journey  to  Health,  and  from 
there  to  the  port  that  lay  beyond  the  station;  but  he 
was  already  leagues  beyond  that  in  her  conception  of 
him — put  away  from  her  on  the  other  side  of  a  yawn- 
ing gulf  of  knowledge. 

They  had  lived  together  for  eight  years,  and  after 
the  first  six  months  he  had  tired  of  her  physically.  She 
had  accepted  the  humiliation  with  the  terrified  shyness 
of  girlhood,  and  had  lived  in  his  house  half-ashamed 
and  half-relieved.  As  the  years  went  on  the  relief 
had  outweighed  the  shame,  and  she  had  settled  into 
the  position  of  figurehead  to  his  household,  manager 
of  the  routine  of  their  mutual  life.  She  never  asked 
herself  whether  she  had  rivals,  or  who  they  were. 
It  had  seemed  to  her  immaterial  so  long  as  he  was  sat- 
isfied with  her  titular  position  as  his  wife,  and  a  gross 
thing  to  bear  in  mind.  She  had  never  loved  him  as  the 
revelation  of  her  later  passion  showed  her  love,  but 
she  had  admired  him  profoundly,  both  mentally  and 
physically.  He  possessed  an  extraordinary  power  of 
representing  things  to  his  own  purposes,  so  that  he 
almost  persuaded  the  words  themselves  to  become 
his  pleaders  and  white  to  declare  itself  black.  Under 
normal  conditions  there  was  nothing  that  he  could  not 
explain  advantageously  to  himself,  and  he  had  so  an- 
nounced his  actions  and  intentions  to  her  that  she  was 


EXILE  47 

perfectly  satisfied  with  them.  When,  therefore,  he 
had  lost  this  facility  under  abnormal  conditions  the 
preceding  night,  when  he  was  hard-pressed  by  circum- 
stances into  statements  of  bald  truth,  the  shock  to  her 
had  been  one  from  which  she  could  never  recover. 
She  had  always  thought  him  extraordinarily  clever  in 
his  profession  and  of  the  intellectual  rather  than  the 
material  type,  because  he  had  represented  himself  so 
with  his  plausible  gift.  In  twenty  minutes  he  had 
stripped  the  veil  from  his  own  purposes  and  disclosed 
himself  as  an  exceptionally  clever  cheat,  a  gambler, 
and  a  sensualist.  His  aims  were  simply  money  to 
spend  on  the  coarsest  pleasures — some  inversion  of 
his  gift  had  made  him  show  her  this  as  rapidly  as  he 
had  formerly  shown  her  false  ideals.  With  his  moral 
virtues  the  physical  beauty  seemed  to  shrink  away 
also,  so  that  she  saw  his  narrow  face  as  no  longer 
good-looking,  but  mean  and  loose-lipped. 

At  first  she  could  not  believe  it ;  she  tried  to  find  the 
faltering  excuses  for  him  that  he  had  so  fluently  found 
for  himself  aforetime.  That  conviction  of  Lestoc  now 
— that  must  have  been  right ;  he  had  so  presented  it  to 
her  that  she  saw  him  as  the  minister  of  plain  justice 
in  the  face  of  public  prejudice.  She  had  felt  a  secret 
pride  in  being  unpopular  when  his  convictions  swept 
one  man  after  another  into  prison.  Through  it  all  she 
had  believed  in  him,  she  had  upheld  his  judgments. 
And  he  had  crumbled  this  belief  away  with  one  brief 
confession — "I  stated  everything  openly  in  that  letter 
— I  told  him  how  I  had  cleared  the  way.  .  .  .  We 
stood  to  gain  wealth  that  one  hardly  estimates.  Think 
of  it!  The  whole  of  the  silk  trade  in  our  hands."  She 
remembered  the  cases — Lestoc,  Arabi  &  Co.,  Raschid 


48  EXILE 

Taima, — they  came  tumbling  bade  into  her  mind  one 
after  another,  the  most  unpopular  of  his  sentences, 
and  all  within  the  last  six  months  that  Chief  Justice 
Yale  had  been  home  on  leave.  He  must  have  been 
trading  illicitly  too — he,  Edgar  Everard,  when  he  was 
only  Crown  prosecutor  and  police  magistrate — since 
he  had  been  waiting  for  temporary  promotion  to  do 
his  "clearing  of  the  way."  The  whole  fabric  of  Mrs. 
Everard's  domestic  and  social  life  was  in  a  moment 
torn  up  as  if  by  an  earthquake  during  that  breathless 
half-hour  the  evening  before.  She  wanted  to  readjust 
her  perspective,  to  focus  the  lens  of  her  mental  sight 
both  on  her  husband  and  herself. 

The  growing  light  striking  on  the  Rocks  brought 
them  into  their  resistless  prominence.  Claudia  Ever- 
ard looked  at  them  with  a  kind  of  relief,  as  at  some- 
thing at  least  that  had  not  altered  since  last  night. 
They  were  flat  coloured,  toneless,  grey  and  brown  in 
the  morning,  with  no  depth  of  shadow,  and  yet  as 
sharply  denned  as  a  stereoscopic  view.  The  little 
bungalows  perched  upon  their  lower  slopes,  the  low 
roofs  of  the  Marines'  quarters,  were  exactly  like  the 
cardboard  buildings  in  a  child's  toy  landscape  which 
are  cut  out  and  pasted  on  to  the  ground  plan.  There 
was  neither  tree  nor  shrub  in  the  whole  of  Mrs.  Ever- 
ard's extended  view — nothing  but  the  hard  Rocks,  the 
little  hard  buildings,  the  hard  line  of  sea  on  the 
horizon. 

After  a  while  she  went  into  her  bedroom,  had  her 
bath,  and  dressed.  Then  the  gong  went,  and  she  fol- 
lowed it  into  the  dining-room,  through  the  pillars,  and 
sat  down  to  breakfast.  Everything  was  covered  with 
fine  wire  or  gauze  on  account  of  the  flies — even  the 


EXILE  49 

bread  had  a  weighted  piece  of  net  thrown  over  It— and 
Abdul  stood  behind  her  chair  with  a  fan  to  wave  them 
off  her  plate.  They  were  not  so  bad  up  here  in  the 
Rocks  as  down  on  the  shore,  but  they  were  bad 
enough.  The  day  deepened,  the  dust  and  glare  began 
to  assert  themselves  over  the  whole  of  Fort  Exile; 
some  of  the  Arab  servants  drew  the  jalousies  closer, 
and  the  bare  clean  rooms  took  on  a  kind  of  twilight  of 
their  own. 

Mrs.  Everard  ate  her  fish-cakes  mechanically  (the 
cook  was  a  good  one,  trained  by  herself  with  unweary- 
ing patience  in  her  husband's  service;  it  was  part  of 
her  married  duty,  as  she  conceived  it),  and  pushed 
back  her  chair  with  relief  when  they  were  finished. 
One  function  of  the  ghastly  day  at  least  was  ended. 
She  wondered  how  she  would  fill  in  the  hours  that  lay 
between  her  and  the  dinner  at  Government  House,  for 
it  was  this  that  she  really  dreaded  to  an  extent  that 
hardly  allowed  her  to  think  of  it.  She  was  rather 
methodical  in  her  mental  processes,  and  ready  to  face 
a  situation  beforehand;  but  she  could  not  face  the 
meeting  with  Hervey  or  arrange  her  speech  with  him. 
Her  mind  kept  on  edging  away  every  time  that  she 
brought  it  to  the  verge  of  thinking  out  what  she  must 
say  and  do.  It  was  a  horror  of  catastrophe. — 

She  had  hardly  left  the  breakfast  table  and  walked 
from  dining-room  to  drawing-room  before  the  name 
of  a  visitor  was  brought  to  her.  This  was  not  unpre- 
cedented in  the  Fort,  where  society  was  so  small  that 
men  and  women  seemed  to  have  their  lives  in  common, 
and  privacy  was  limited  to  midday  rest;  but  Mrs. 
Everard  would  have  refused  to  receive  had  it  been 
any  one  but  the  Crown  prosecutor.  Stanley  Mur- 


50  EXILE 

gatroyd  had  taken  her  husband's  place  on  his  promo- 
tion, was  his  most  intimate  friend,  and  assuredly  in 
his  confidence.  He  must  have  been  so,  indeed,  to  fur- 
ther Everard's  misuse  of  judicial  power.  She  said, 
"Yes,  of  course,"  to  the  butler,  and  turned  to  meet 
Murgatroyd  almost  before  he  was  in  the  room  with  a 
leap  of  the  heart  for  some  new  crisis,  some  piece  of 
bad  news. 

He  was  a  very  tall  man  and  extraordinarily  ema- 
ciated, the  climate  of  Exile  having  given  him  perma- 
nent dyspepsia.  She  thought  involuntarily  how 
parchment-coloured  his  face  was  as  he  entered,  and 
that  his  ailment  must  be  worse,  and  then  it  crossed 
her  mind  that  he  was  suffering  a  mental  anxiety  only 
second  to  her  own.  He  had  very  deeply-set  eyes  that 
never  seemed  to  be  looking  at  her,  and  yet  she  felt 
that  they  were  seldom  off  her  face,  and  she  had  always 
pitied  him  for  an  unprepossessing  personality.  Few 
people  liked  Murgatroyd,  and  he  was  spoken  of  as 
Everard's  satellite.  Claudia  Everard  knew  that  he 
possessed  a  boundless  admiration  for  her  husband, 
and  a  devotion  to  him  that  was  almost  servile.  He 
was  almost  sure  to  be  involved  in  Everard's  ruin — if 
it  came  to  that. 

"Sit  down,  Stanley,"  she  said  kindly.  "Have  you 
had  breakfast?" 

"I  breakfasted  at  eight,  thanks,"  said  the  magis- 
trate in  his  usual  brief  fashion. 

Mrs.  Everard  nodded  to  the  butler,  who  was  still 
waiting  for  orders.  "It  is  not  necessary  to  wait,  Ab- 
dul,— Mr.  Murgatroyd  has  breakfasted."  Then  as 
the  man  vanished  to  the  far  recesses  of  the  long  rooms 


EXILE  51 

— '"Well?"  she  said,  dropping  her  voice.  "What 
is  it?" 

He  raised  his  cavernous  eyes,  and  she  was  startled 
by  the  excitement  in  them.  It  struck  her  for  the  first 
time  that  he  had  a  look  of  the  fanatic — she  had  always 
thought  of  him  as  a  dull,  conscientious  drudge,  and 
had  accentuated  her  kindness  towards  him  by  the  use 
of  his  Christian  name  as  her  husband  did. 

"Have  you  seen  him  ?"  he  asked  breathlessly. 

"Yes— last  night." 

"He  told  you ?" 

"As  much  as  he  had  time  to  tell.  He  was  only  here 
half  an  hour." 

"Do  you  know  where  he  slept?" 

"At  Hassan's." 

He  half  started  up.     "Is  he  there  now?" 

"I  think  not — 1  don't  know.  He  was  to  start  at 
daybreak  for  Health."  Some  reflection  of  his  un- 
easiness communicated  itself  to  her  tingling  nerves, 
so  that  she  spoke  in  sharp,  rapid  whispers. 

He  dropped  back  in  his  chair.  "I  might  have  caught 
him — if  I'd  known,"  he  said.  "There's  something  he 
ought  to  hear.  Could  Hassan  get  in  touch  with  him 
at  once  at  Health  ?" 

"He  might — he  has  agents  there." 

"I  don't  want  it  to  go  through  me.  Hervey's  on 
the  lookout  already — he  could  stir  up  Health  as  well 
as  Reserve.  I  believe  I  am  being  watched." 

"Yes,"  she  said  simply.  It  would  have  seemed  in- 
congruous yesterday  to  think  of  the  Chief  Justice  or 
the  magistrate  being  watched — that  they  should  not 
go  and  come  unquestioned;  now  the  undreamed-of 
seemed  the  inevitable  thing. 


52  EXILE 

"How  long  does  he  stay  at  Health?"  he  demanded. 

"He  does  not  stay — goes  straight  on  to  the  Port." 

Then  he  started  to  his  feet  again,  trembling.  "He 
must  not  go — he  must  be  stopped  at  Health,"  he  said 
rapidly.  "Did  any  one  see  him  last  night?" 

"I  think  not — I  believe  not." 

"Then  they  do  not  know  that  he  returned  from 
Bani— from  Health?" 

"No. r 

"They  must  think  he  stayed  there  and  has  never 
gone  away."  A  sullen  shame  seemed  to  cross  his 
face,  and  she  divined  that  many  people  had  known 
that  Everard  was  not  at  Health  at  all,  but  at  Banish- 
ment. It  was  only  she  who  had  been  duped ;  but  then 
she  was  his  wife.  Nevertheless,  he  had  been  reported 
at  Health  and  must  still  be  reported  there.  "They 
must  not  think, — Hervey  must  not  dream, — that  he 
thinks  of  going  on  to  the  Port — yet,"  said  Mur- 
gatroyd. 

She  looked  up  with  a  troubled  face.  "He  is  so 
panic-stricken!"  she  breathed.  "I  am  afraid  nothing 
will  keep  him  there — ' — " 

"He  must  stay — I  tell  you  he  must — as  long1  as  Her- 
vey holds  that  letter." 

They  stared  at  each  other  blankly,  and  she  saw  to 
her  bewilderment  that  his  eyes  seemed  to  be  moist. 
Did  he  care  for  Edgar  so  much  as  that?  It  struck 
her  as  a  revelation,  something  she  had  not  fathomed. 

"You  too !"  he  said  brokenly.  "You  are  suffering — 
we  have  all  made  you  suffer."  Then  she  realised  that 
she  was  trembling,  and  that  it  was  his  reference  to  the 
letter  and  Hervey  that  had  made  her  do  so;  but  he 
had  not  linked  cause  with  effect. 


EXILE  53 

"It  is  nothing,"  she  said  hastily.  "What  are  we 
to  do?" 

"Could  you  get  a  message  to  Hassan?  So  that  no 
one  should  guess?  Do  not  use  the  post  if  you  can 
help  it — do  not  even  write!" 

She  thought  a  moment.  "I  think  so.  I  am  allowed 
to  visit  there,  and  to  meet  his  wife.  I  have  been  to 
several  of  the  houses  of  the  richer  Arabs — 'Lady 
Stroud  goes  too,  you  know." 

He  drew  a  breath  of  relief.  "You  can  go  to  his 
house  then  and  see  him  ?" 

"If  he  is  there.  The  ladies  of  his  household  gen- 
erally receive  me  alone,  but  he  has  come  in  once  or 
twice." 

"Wait  till  he  comes — see  him  somehow,"  he  said 
eagerly.  "And  tell  him  that  Edgar  must  stay  at 
Health  as  if  nothing  had  happened — as  if  he  had  no 
idea  of  going  further.  Hassan  can  telegraph  in  cypher 
to  his  agents — they  use  a  business  cypher." 

"I  will  tell  him."  Her  nerves  seemed  braced  up 
to  the  pitch  of  his.  "I  had  better  not  leave  a  note 
if  he  doesn't  come  in?" 

"No — no!  For  God's  sake  nothing  more  in  writ- 
ing!" he  said  with  a  shudder,  and  again  that  strange 
trembling  seized  her.  "Stay  on  till  he  does  come — • 
Arab  ladies  think  nothing  of  long  visits,  they  like  you 
to  stay  for  some  hours." 

She  did  not  tell  him  of  her  engagement  to  dine  at 
Government  House  or  what  it  involved.  She  felt  she 
could  not  speak  of  it,  though  she  supposed  that  he 
knew  that  Everard  had  apportioned  her  her  share  in 
the  desperate  fight  for  safety.  She  felt  sure  that  he- 


54  EXILE 

knew  a  minute  later  when  he  was  turning"  to  go,  and 
came  back  to  her  and  held  out  his  hand  half  timidly. 

"You  must  not  be  frightened — Edgar  is  so  wonder- 
ful, he  knows  they  cannot  touch  him,  legally.  It  was 
only  that  one  fatal  mistake  of  trying  to  bind  Hervey 
to  us.  Hervey  could  set  all  Exile  in  a  flame.  ...  I 
wish  we  could  have  kept  you  out  of  it!" 

"You  ask  impossibilities,  Stanley!" 

"Yes,  yes,  of  course.  Edgar  forgot  that  it  involved 
you  as  well  as  the  rest  of  us.  You  were  bound  to 
know,  and  to  help  him.  Do  not  worry — we  will  see 
that  he  is  safe,  whoever  else  is  sacrificed!" 

She  was  confused  into  silence,  and  he  took  his  de- 
parture. His  simplicity  seemed  suddenly  incredible — 
his  devotion  to  both  Edgar  and  herself  almost  a  touch- 
ing thing.  It  had  not  once  been  possible  to  fling1  the 
revolution  of  her  mind  in  the  face  of  his  attachment 
to  her  husband,  or  to  raise  one  cry  of  the  horror  that 
consumed  her.  He  seemed  to  have  no  moral  sense  be- 
yond fidelity  to  Everard ;  he  had  felt  neither  fear  for 
himself,  nor  shame,  nor  humiliation — she  was  sure  of 
it.  And  yet  he  was  involved  in  these  judicial  crimes, 
this  flinging  of  innocent  men  into  Arab  prisons  to  get 
them  out  of  the  way,  this  cheating  and  trickery,  and 
selling  of  a  high  office.  If  the  populace  threatened 
the  Chief  Justice's  bodily  safety  they  would  not  spare 
the  Crown  prosecutor,  but  the  fear  of  such  reprisals 
had  been  all  Everard's,  or  for  Everard,  until  Mur- 
gatroyd  loomed  almost  heroic  by  contrast.  She  put 
her  hands  up  to  her  temples  as  if  she  could  not  reason. 
Her  mind  seemed  stunned  with  it  all.  And  through 
it  and  underlying  it  she  was  conscious  of  the  cold  fear 
lest  she  should  have  to  sit  side  by  side  with  Hervey 


EXILE  55 

to-night.  Lady  Stroud  sometimes  placed  her  there, 
as  a  kind  of  moral  reaction  from  the  society  of  other 
women,  she  thought.  She  had  smiled  over  it  a  little 
scornfully  at  times.  But — would  she  have  to  sit  and 
talk  to  him  to-night? 

She  thrust  the  fear  away  from  her  with  both  hands, 
throwing  them  out  in  actual  physical  revolt.  Thank 
God,  Murgatroyd  had  given  her  something  to  do — 
some  action  that  should  prevent  her  thinking.  She 
rang  the  bell,  and  ordered  the  carriage  for  four  o'clock 
this  afternoon,  to  drive  into  Reserve,  and  then  fell 
to  her  Arab  books,  studying  the  language  feverishly 
until  lunch-time.  There  was  no  sleep  for  her  after 
lunch,  but  she  lay  on  her  bed  under  the  mosquito  net 
(for  flies  were  worst  in  the  heat  of  the  day,  though 
there  were  no  mosquitoes),  and  read  a  heap  of  books 
which  she  had  snatched  off  her  shelves  without  looking 
at  them : 

"Que  sont-ils  devenus,  les  chagrins  de  ma  vie? 
Tout  ce  qui  m'a  fait  vieux  est  bien  loin  maintenant " 


Would  it  indeed  be  like  that  some  day?  Would  they 
all  seem  far  off,  these  "chagrins"  of  her  life?  She 
turned  the  page  idly : 

"Un  souvenir  heureux  est  peut-etre  sur  terre 
Plus  vrai  que  la  bonheur." 

She  read  without  knowing  that  it  had  entered  her 
brain  at  all,  for  her  thoughts  were  wandering.  She 
was  taking  her  seat  at  the  dinner-table  this  evening, 
next  to  Hervey,  and  waiting  an  opportunity  .  .  .  She 
flung  the  French  poems  aside,  and  took  up  an  English 
books  of  essays: 


56  EXILE 

"To  marry  is  to  domesticate  the  recording  angel  .  .  ." 

Oh,  heavens!  was  there  no  escape  for  her  tired 
mind,  even  in  books  ?  They  began  to  make  a  jumble  in 
her  head,  so  fast  she  turned  them  over. 

"He  knew  that  he  had  done  a  villainy;  knew  it  and  did 
not  repent.  ...  To  create  a  solitude  where  he  alone  might 
reach  one  woman's  figure,  he  would  have  set  a  world  afire." 

rt'Is  there  anybody  there?'  said  the  Traveller, 
Knocking  at  the  moonlit  door." 

"No  man  can  make  haste  to  be  rich  without  going  against 
the  Will  of  God,  in  which  case  it  is  the  one  frightful  thing 
to  be  successful  .  .  ." 

Her  ayah  brought  her  a  cup  of  tea  at  half-past 
three,  as  she  had  ordered,  and  she  drank  it  thirstily, 
before  she  rose  and  dressed.  Then  the  carriage  was 
at  the  door,  and  then  she  was  rolling  smartly  down  the 
hill  and  into  the  smooth  road  at  the  foot  that  would 
take  her  to  Reserve.  One  or  two  cars  passed  her  on 
the  way,  flying  past  the  slower  horse-drawn  vehicle, 
and  she  bowed  in  answer  to  lifted  hats,  wondering  in 
the  new  sting  of  her  humiliation  that  they  should  con- 
descend to  salute  the  wife  of  a  moral  criminal.  She 
wondered  how  much  was  suspicioned  by  other  men 
than  Hervey,  who  did  not  hold  damning  proof,  but 
must  have  recognised  the  outrage  of  justice  all  the 
same.  It  seemed  a  little  pitiful  to  her  that  she  should 
have  been  kept  so  in  the  dark — a  little  unfair,  even  of 
Providence,  to  have  made  her  prone  to  trust  widely, 
and  to  have  given  her  husband  that  specious  gift  of 
self-justification. — 


EXILE  57 

The  road  ran  all  along  the  foot  of  the  Rocks,  and 
now,  at  this  hour,  she  thought  them  most  beautiful, 
for  they  were  full  of  warm  brown  shadows  and 
drenched  with  the  golden  light  of  afternoon.  Against 
the  smooth  blue  of  the  sky  the  bronze  icebergs  stood 
up  relentless  and  unsoftened  even  by  the  tender  light. 
Mrs.  Everard  was  conscious  that  she  had  grown  to 
love  them  as  something  almost  animate,  something 
compelling  her  to  look  at  them. 

The  road  forked  after  a  while,  one  side  of  it  turn- 
ing off  into  the  desert — the  same  road  along  which 
Hervey  had  driven  out  the  night  before,  and  Everard 
this  morning,  since  it  was  the  only  route  to  Health. 
The  other  division  turned  short  to  the  right  and  bur- 
rowed into  the  rocks  through  what  was  called  the 
Cutting.  It  led  directly  into  the  great  extinct  crater 
where  the  old  buried  city  had  lain,  and  presumably 
been  engulfed  by  the  volcanic  convulsion  which  had 
also  diverted  the  river  that  used  to  flow  over  a  more 
fertile  land.  So  much  in  the  dawn  of  humanity  had 
it  been  that  nothing  was  left  to  record  a  name  to  that 
city,  or  what  manner  of  men  had  lived  there.  Only 
antiquarians  grovelling  in  lava  had  declared  that  an 
unmistakable  ground  plan  was  there,  and  that  a  great 
civilisation  might  once  have  flourished  on  a  smooth, 
watered  plain.  There  was,  at  least,  no  doubt  about 
the  dried  river  bed,  though  to  the  uneducated  eye  it 
looked  a  mere  chasm  in  the  volcanic  Rocks.  Fable 
always  called  the  city  "Phoenician,"  but  there  was  no 
remote  proof  of  this. 

Mrs.  Everard's  carriage  disappeared  into  the  echo- 
ing darkness,  and  fled  by  way  of  electric  lamps  through 
the  subterranean  passage  and  out  into  the  road  again, 


58  EXILE 

leading  down  into  Reserve.  The  Arab  town  lay  below 
her,  flat-roofed,  white-walled,  with  narrow  undrained 
streets,  and  a  busy  life  as  multitudinous  as  the  flies. 
Reserve  belonged  exclusively  to  merchants,  Arab  and 
European,  save  for  the  solid  authority  of  the  police 
courts  and  the  great  waterworks.  Mrs.  Everard  was 
driven  down  the  gentle  slope  of  the  good  new  road, 
past  the  grim  walls  of  the  prison,  at  which  she  dared 
not  look,  and  the  native  sentry.  Her  heart  beat  to 
think  who  lay  behind  those  barred  windows,  victims  of 
her  husband's  rapacity,  and  she  remembered  vividly, 
with  a  shudder,  a  tale  that  had  reached  even  her  of  Mr. 
Lestoc  serving  three  months  in  that  unwholesome  con- 
finement, and  being  perforce  removed  to  hospital  until 
he  should  recover,  to  endure  the  remainder  of  his  sen- 
tence. Her  husband  had  given  a  severe  sentence — • 
eighteen  months,  the  maximum  that  he  could  have 
given  being  two  years.  And  Lestoc  was  a  delicate 
man,  with  a  disease  which  had  developed  in  prison. 
.  .  .  She  gave  a  little  sob  of  foolish  relief  that  Ever- 
ard had  not  awarded  the  maximum  sentence.  It 
seemed  a  redeeming  gleam  of  mercy.  She  did  not 
know  that  had  he  given  the  two  years  there  could  have 
been  an  appeal  to  a  higher  court  in  Bombay,  and  the 
conviction  must  have  been  quashed.  Instead  she  re- 
membered his  telling  her  how  the  sentence  had  gone 
against  public  opinion — "They  would  have  liked  a 
practical  acquittal.  They  forget  that  I  could  have 
given  the  cheat  two  years !  I  shall  be  credited  for  my 
sternness,  Claudia,  but  never  for  my  leniency.  That 
is  the  fate  of  all  strong  men !" 

She  sat  up  a  little  in  the  sunshine  and  gasped.    Even 
now  the  phrases  came  back  to  her  with  conviction, 


EXILE  59 

remembering  how  he  had  said  them.  No  one  but 
Everard  could  have  destroyed  her  belief  in  Everard, 
and  it  had  been  his  relentless  purpose  to  do  so  when  the 
moment  came  that  she  must  understand  him  as  he  was, 
not  as  he  had  posed  to  her. 

The  streets  narrowed  round  the  carriage  as  they 
turned  from  the  high  road.  The  horses  fretted  on 
the  curb,  and  the  musical  bells  under  the  driver's  foot 
rang  out  at  every  corner  to  warn  the  pedestrians  out 
of  the  way.  Claudia  had  always  loved  the  parti- 
coloured scene,  the  gay  flutter  of  Eastern  rags,  and 
the  harmonious  bazaars.  Every  one  walked  softly 
through  the  dust  on  bare  feet,  even  the  camels  and  the 
little  donkeys  raising  no  sound,  though  they  were  so 
full  of  business.  It  was  only  her  own  carriage  that 
was  noisy,  ringing  in  and  out.  She  saw  the  dark 
faces  drift  by  her  with  a  certain  loftiness  and  beauty 
even  in  the  lowest  class,  for  the  Arab  is  free-born  and 
carries  the  stamp  on  him  of  being  without  the  law. 
Only  once  did  she  pass  a  white  woman — a  nurse  of 
the  Danish  Mission,  with  her  long  veil  hanging  behind 
her  and  two  Arab  children  trotting  at  her  side.  She 
had  the  golden  hair  of  her  race,  and  the  lengthening 
light  caught  it  and  made  it  glitter  in  the  dark  street — • 
a  strange,  white  figure  passing  through  the  coloured 
crowd,  the  Arab  children  clinging  to  her  hands ! 

Hassan's  house  was  in  a  noted  thoroughfare,  and 
was  one  of  the  better  class.  He  was  rich  for  a  mer- 
chant even  now ;  he  had  hoped  to  be  richer  in  partner- 
ship with  an  unscrupulous  judge  who  had  the  power 
to  sweep  rivals  from  his  path.  Mrs.  Everard  left  her 
carriage  at  the  door,  and,  passing  into  a  dark  entry, 
inquired  of  a  porter  who  sat  there  if  she  could  see  the 


60  EXILE 

ladies  of  the  house.  The  man  knew  her  by  sight,  and 
did  not  trouble  to  inquire.  Yes,  she  could  go  up,  he 
said,  and  left  her  to  find  her  way  up  a  steep  flight  of 
stairs  in  the  dark.  They  were  uncarpeted  and  not 
very  clean,  a  mere  adjunct  of  the  street,  and  Mrs. 
Everard  stumbled  several  times  before  she  emerged 
on  to  a  kind  of  platform  before  a  closed  door  and 
knocked. 

It  was  opened  by  a  small  figure  in  dull  crimson  with 
the  face  of  an  old  woman  and  the  form  of  a  child. 
She  held  the  loose  drapery  of  her  dress  up  to  her  face 
until  she  should  see  whether  her  visitor  were  man  or 
woman,  with  the  instinct  of  the  Mahomedan;  but  at 
sight  of  Mrs.  Everard  she  uttered  a  little  soft  sound 
of  pleasure  and  scuttled  away  to  make  her  presence 
known  indoors,  for  this  was  the  real  entrance  to  the 
house.  Downstairs  was  only  the  outer  fortifications. 

"May  I  come  in  ?"  said  Claudia  in  Arabic,  hesitating 
to  enter  the  hall,  though  she  knew  her  way  from  for- 
mer visits. 

There  was  a  little  patter  of  feet,  a  gurgle  of  words, 
a  soft  laugh,  and  then  two  younger  women  appeared 
with  unveiled  faces  to  draw  her  forward  with  expres- 
sions of  the  liveliest  interest  and  hospitality.  The  few 
English  women  who  had  been  admitted  into  the  inner 
precincts  of  the  better-class  Arab  houses  were  very 
welcome,  for  they  made  an  interesting  break  in  the 
lives  of  the  Mahomedan  ladies,  none  of  whom  went 
out  into  the  streets  until  dusk,  while  those  of  the  high- 
est rank  never  went  out  at  all  after  marriage,  but  took 
their  airing  on  the  roofs. 

Claudia  Everard  followed  her  guides  through  a  pas- 
sage room  on  her  left,  where  the  old  woman  who  had 


EXILE  61 

answered  the  door  sat  on  the  ground  manicuring  the 
hands  of  a  child  of  some  ten  years  and  darkening  the 
nails  with  henna.  There  was  no  furniture  in  this 
room,  but  some  beautiful  brass  lamps  stood  in  a  row 
by  one  wall  ready  for  lighting,  and  by  another  some 
coffee-pots  that  would  have  broken  the  heart  of  a  col- 
lector. They  were  beyond  price,  and  unobtainable  in 
the  bazaars  of  Reserve,  these  household  belongings  of 
the  richer  Arabs.  Beyond  the  passage  room  was  an- 
other platform  open  to  the  sky,  and  beyond  this  again 
the  living  and  reception  room  of  the  womenkind.  The 
house  appeared  to  be  built  in  sections  at  all  sorts  of 
angles,  for  this  last  room  overlooked  the  street  from 
a  great  height,  but  it  was  probably  situated  over  some 
one  else's  entrance  and  staircase,  the  one  by  which 
Claudia  had  entered  being  far  behind  her. 

The  two  women  who  had  conducted  her  in  were  no 
more  than  nineteen  or  twenty,  though  the  elder  of  the 
two  looked  far  older  than  her  English  guest.  She 
had  a  buxom  prettiness  that  made  her  matronly,  and 
was  dressed  handsomely  in  silk  and  gold  tissue  with 
many  gold  and  glass  bangles  on  her  bare  brown  arms 
— such  arms!  beautiful  enough  to  serve  as  models  for 
the  completion  of  the  Venus  of  Milo.  She  waved 
Claudia  to  a  seat,  talking  with  voluble  pleasure  and 
smiling  with  friendly  eyes  upon  her  guest. 

"We  bid  you  welcome,  madam !  It  is  long  since  you 
have  been  to  see  us!  Lady  Stroud  was  here  a  few 
days  ago.  We  are  delighted  to  see  the  English  ladies !" 

The  younger  woman  had  in  the  meantime  appar- 
ently informed  the  whole  household  that  they  had  a 
guest,  for  in  a  few  seconds  the  room  seemed  to  be  full 
of  women,  ranging  in  age  from  an  old  grey-haired 


62  EXILE 

lady  in  the  dress  of  a  widow  to  a  young  girl  who 
could  not  be  more  than  thirteen.  These  were  all  Has- 
san's female  relatives,  whose  circumstances  made  it 
incumbent  on  him  to  support  them,  or  who  helped  to 
do  the  work  of  his  house.  The  old  widow  lady  was 
indeed  his  mother,  and  there  was  a  sister-in-law  with 
a  baby  in  her  arms,  besides  two  or  three  other  children 
of  very  few  years.  One  small  dark-eyed  boy  of  four 
was  the  only  male  creature  in  the  room  besides  the 
baby. 

It  was  not  a  large  room  either,  or  it  did  not  look  so 
when  full  of  coloured  draperies  and  floating  veils  and 
garments  modified  from  the  Indian  saree;  and  its 
peculiar  furnishing  detracted  from  its  space  still  more. 
At  one  end  was  a  carved  bedstead  canopied  with  em- 
broidery, at  the  foot  of  which  stood  a  beautiful  inlaid 
chest.  Round  each  side  of  the  room  were  cushioned 
seats  reminding  Claudia  of  pews  in  a  church,  save 
that  they  were  more  narrowly  divided.  They  were  so 
padded  with  cushions  as  to  be  rather  high,  and  when 
she  sat  down  on  one  her  feet  barely  touched  the  floor, 
tall  though  she  was.  In  the  centre  of  the  room  was  a 
round  table,  of  obviously  European  make,  with  a 
gramophone  standing  on  it,  and  on  the  walls  hung  a 
jumble  of  glass  and  china  of  the  commonest  kind, 
such  as  are  seen  in  seaside  lodgings  in  England,  and 
the  brass- work  and  pottery  of  the  East.  The  horrid 
juxtaposition  made  Claudia  gasp  even  more  than  the 
narrow  barred  windows  that  could  only  open  half- 
way. 

The  pleasant  fluttering  crowd  of  women  stood 
round  her,  admiring  and  even  fingering  her  dress  and 
asking  the  eager  questions  of  children.  Clinging  to 


EXILE  63 

them  one  and  all  was  that  strange  scent  that  Arab 
women  have  in  their  clothes,  their  hair,  about  their 
whole  persons,  and  which  of  all  odours  seems  most 
vaguely  reminiscent  of  forgotten  ages.  It  is  not  the 
smell  of  incense  which  haunts  India,  or  like  anything 
used  by  other  races — it  is  made  of  dried  spices  or 
odorous  woods,  and  hangs  in  the  nostrils  like  memory. 
Claudia  liked  it.  It  was  somehow  part  of  the  strange 
house  and  its  occupants,  just  as  the  women  liked  the 
sense  of  daintiness  and  freshness  in  the  English  ladies. 
It  added  to  their  pleasure  in  her  visit  that  her  study 
of  Arabic  had  given  her  some  fluency,  for  Lady 
Stroud's  knowledge  only  allowed  her  to  speak  in  a 
few  conventional  phrases.  Claudia  admired  the  baby, 
whose  soft,  downy  head  was  already  decorated  with 
a  little  embroidered  cap,  and  made  friends  with  the 
little  boy,  who  was  too  shy  to  do  more  than  stare  up 
with  eyes  of  the  blackest  velvet.  How  pretty  the 
faces  were!  There  was  hardly  a  plain  one  amongst 
them.  She  remembered  once  saying  with  enthusiasm 
to  her  husband  that  she  pitied  him  for  not  being  al- 
lowed to  see  Arab  women  unveiled  as  she  could  do, 
the  smooth  oval  faces,  laughing  dark  eyes,  and  perfect 
teeth!  And  he  had  smiled.  .  .  .  She  read  a  sudden 
meaning  into  that  smile.  No  doubt  but  he  had  plenty 
in  his  house  at  Banishment,  though  of  a  lower  class. 
She  wondered  as  she  sat  there  amongst  them  all  if 
they  knew  that  Everard  had  slept  in  the  house  the 
night  before,  though  barred  and  bolted  away  from 
their  quarters,  and  that  he  was  in  hiding.  But  after 
a  minute's  reflection  she  knew  that  they  did,  and  were 
well  informed  of  his  having  fled  in  the  dawn  on  the 
desert  route  to  Health.  Shut  away  behind  her  barred 


64  EXILE 

windows  and  doors  there  is  nothing  that  the  Arab  lady 
does  not  know  about  her  neighbours,  and  though  she 
may  only  peer  at  the  world  from  the  narrow  peepholes 
of  her  walled-in  roof,  she  contrives  to  see  everything 
that  goes  on  in  the  streets  of  the  city  below  her — far 
more  than  her  European  sister,  who  has  more  to  oc- 
cupy her.  They  would  gossip  behind  their  guest's 
back,  perhaps  guess  that  her  visit  to-day  had  some- 
thing to  do  with  the  Chief  Justice  being  secretly  in 
the  house  last  night ;  but  there  was  nothing  in  the  ring 
of  laughing  faces  clustered  round  her  to  betray  it. 

After  a  while  tall  glasses  were  brought  in  on  a  tray, 
and  Claudia  knew  that  she  must  partake  of  refresh- 
ment or  she  would  bring  ill-luck  to  the  house.  She 
did  not  care  for  the  very  sweet  iced  lemonade  after 
her  recent  tea,  but  it  was  better  than  the  Arab  beverage 
that  went  by  that  name,  and  that  was  really  made  of 
herbs.  As  she  gravely  sipped  from  the  long  glass  she 
tactfully  admired  the  trimming  on  the  dress  of  Has- 
san's wife  (possibly  he  had  more  than  one,  but  this 
was  the  formal  queen  of  his  household),  knowing  that 
it  was  the  lady's  own  work.  They  embroidered  skil- 
fully and  well,  these  Arab  women,  but  always  for  their 
own  adornment 

"We  must  make  some  music  for  you — English  mu- 
sic!" said  Sitt  Indahu  Hassan,  and  Claudia  shivered 
inwardly  to  see  one  of  the  younger  women  setting  the 
gramophone  in  motion.  The  only  tunes  that  presented 
any  melody  to  Arab  ears  appeared  to  be  the  records 
of  bagpipes,  for  Claudia  instantly  recognised  the  raw 
skirl  in  the  sounds  that  poured  forth,  making  further 
conversation  impossible.  She  listened  courteously, 
still  playing  with  the  children,  and  wondering  when 


EXILE  65 

Hassan  might  himself  arrive  and  how  long  she  could 
stretch  her  visit  out.  She  was  conscious  of  a  feeling 
of  exhaustion  and  extreme  tire  for  the  first  time,  and 
the  Arabic  that  came  so  easily  with  her  teacher  was  a 
dreadful  effort.  Yet  she  must  see  Hassan  even  if  she 
waited  until  the  last  minute  before  returning  to  dress 
for  dinner  at  Government  House.  How  strange  it 
seemed  to  think  of  Government  House  after  this  Arab 
household,  essentially  Eastern  despite  the  gramophone 
and  the  cheap  china  on  the  walls !  How  strange  Lady 
Stroud  must  find  it  when  she  came  here!  Claudia's 
eyes  wandered  round  the  odd  room — the  cushioned 
seats,  the  great  bed;  she  wondered  if  her  lines  had 
fallen  in  such  places  whether  she  would  ever  have  been 
reconciled  to  sharing  the  man  she  loved  with  his  fam- 
ily and  other  wives?  It  was  of  a  life  with  him  she 
thought  rather  than  of  her  husband,  in  whose  posses- 
sion she  had  no  jealousy.  Could  she  have  borne  it? 
Then  she  knew  herself  foolish,  since  to  be  allowed  to 
live  with  him  anywhere,  under  any  circumstances, 
would  have  been  better  than  her  heart's  starvation. 
The  little  Arab  room  would  not  matter,  the  other 
women  would  not  matter,  so  long  as  he  gave  her  love 
for  love. 

She  sat  on  and  on  in  the  deepening  twilight  waiting 
for  Hassan,  that  strange  scent  in  her  nostrils.  And 
when  at  last  she  knew  by  the  flutter  of  the  women  that 
he  was  coming  she  rose  leisurely  and  began  to  say 
good-bye,  mingling  her  farewells  with  her  greeting 
to  him  as  he  entered,  and  congratulations  upon  the 
health  of  his  family.  He  accompanied  her  to  the 
door,  and  himself  carried  a  light  to  the  gulf  of  the 


66  EXILE 

outer  stairs  to  light  her  down.  She  had  calculated 
upon  this. 

At  the  head  of  the  stairs  she  paused  and  turned  her 
face  to  him,  ashen  in  the  light  of  the  lamp  he  carried. 

"My  husband  went  to  Health  this  morning?"  she 
said  without  more  preamble. 

"Yes,  madam!"  She  had  spoken  low,  but  in  Eng- 
lish, and  he  followed  suit. 

"Can  you  communicate  with  him — in  cypher — > 
through  your  agents  there?" 

She  had  often  seen  Hassan  in  his  own  large  shop 
among  the  silks  and  the  embroideries,  but  he  seemed 
a  different  person  in  his  own  house,  with  his  face  bent 
on  her  like  that,  almost  sternly,  with  keen  attention. 
He  was  a  handsome  man,  with  a  black  beard  and  a 
type  of  face  that  is  both  crafty  and  noble  at  the  same 
time.  He  might  be  a  rogue,  but  he  was  not  a  craven. 
His  villainies  would  be,  had  been,  bold  ones.  She 
found  herself  almost  respecting  him  for  this,  remem- 
bering the  panic  fear  that  she  had  witnessed  last  night. 

"Do  you  wish  a  message,  madam?" 

"He  must  not  leave  Health — he  must  on  no  account 
seem  to  be  running  away  or  to  go  on  to  the  Port," 
she  said  rapidly  but  clearly.  "Mr.  Murgatroyd  told 
me  to  get  him  warned  by  some  means  or  other  with- 
out communicating  with  him  directly.  He  must  ap- 
pear to  be  still  at  Health  on  leave,  as  though  he  had 
never  left  it." 

Hassan  stood  silent  a  moment,  holding  the  lamp  in 
his  hand.  The  light  struck  upward  into  his  composed 
face,  and  she  felt  the  strength  in  him  for  good  or  ill. 
And  still  that  strange  scent  of  the  women's  clothes 


EXILE  67 

seemed  to  linger  in  her  nostrils,  mingling  spices  and 
dried  woods. 

"The  message  shall  go  to-night,"  he  said  at  last, 
and  she  found  herself  instinctively  relying  on  his  as- 
surance. 

"You  think  you  will  be  in  time?  He  will  not  have 
left  for  the  Port?" 

"He  does  not  reach  Health  until  to-night,"  he  said 
guardedly. 

"But  do  you  think " 

"Madam,  it  seems  that  we  must  be  in  time !" 

She  drew  a  breath  that  was  almost  sobbing.  She 
had  stood  the  rack  for  twenty- four  hours — and  there 
was  worse  to  come. 

"Did  any  one  see  him  here?" 

"No!" 

That  sufficed  her.  She  turned,  without  more  adieu, 
to  the  stairs  and  descended  slowly,  Hassan  holding 
the  lamp  at  the  top.  As  she  passed  the  doorway,  the 
porter  bade  her  a  loud  good-night,  and  she  found 
her  carriage  waiting,  immovable,  in  the  roadway. 

"Get  home  as  quick  as  you  can,"  she  said  to  the 
abuggi.  "I  am  dining  out." 

The  musical  bells  and  the  roll  of  the  wheels  sounded 
once  more  in  the  dusty  streets,  flaring  now  with  elec- 
tricity, and  the  wild  rush  of  the  outer  air  bore  away 
the  faintness  that  had  seemed  to  threaten  her  for  a 
minute.  There  was  something  more  to  be  faced — 
something  much  worse.  The  dark  tunnel  opened  its 
mouth  for  her  and  let  her  through  to  the  outer  circuit 
of  the  Rocks,  which  thrust  their  jagged  spires  amongst 
the  stars  again.  It  was  a  beautiful  night,  fresh  and 
clear;  but  still  in  Mrs.  Everard's  nostrils  seemed  to 


68  EXILE 

hang  that  old,  old  scent  that  Cleopatra  might  have 
used,  and  the  Queen  of  Sheba,  and  former  civilisa- 
tions yet. 

"Long  ago,"  she  said,  looking  up  at  the  Rocks,  "I 
was  an  Eastern  slave,  and  the  man  I  love  was  my 
master.  And  I  shook  that  powder  into  my  clothes 
to  make  myself  more  desirable,  and  the  scent  was  al- 
ways with  me.  I  know  as  well  as  if  it  were  yesterday 
— but  he  has  forgotten." 


CHAPTER  IV 

"My  foe,  undreamed  of,  at  my  side 

Stood  suddenly,  like  Fate; 
For  those  who  love  the  world  is  wide, 
But  not   for  those  who  hate." 

T.  B.  ALDRICH. 

HE  ayah  had  laid  her  dinner  gown  on  the  bed, 
and  was  waiting  with  Oriental  calm  until  her 
memsahib  should  submit  to  be  dressed.  Most  of  the 
wives  of  high-salaried  officials  had  Indians  for  maids, 
the  rest  of  the  housework  being  undertaken  by  Arab 
boys.  Only  the  lowest  class  of  Arab  women  could  or 
would  undertake  housework,  and  the  English  women 
could  not  have  them  as  body  servants. 

Mrs.  Everard  let  down  the  heavy  weight  of  her 
hair  herself,  since  Bahoo  was  not  capable  of  hair- 
dressing,  and  proceeded  to  brush  it  out  with  delib- 
erate care.  Every  stage  in  her  dressing  marked  one 
nearer  to  the  moment  when  she  must  face  the  meeting 
at  Government  House,  and  she  felt  that  she  could  not 
hurry.  The  brush  seemed  to  have  grown  leaden,  the 
length  of  her  hair  miraculous,  as  her  arm  swept  stead- 
ily down  it,  brushing  out  the  depths  of  its  dusty  gold. 
It  was  never  bright  hair  for  all  the  care  bestowed  on 
it ;  it  would  not  glitter,  it  would  only  give  back  a  dull 
shine  from  her  small  fine  head. 

"The  memsahib  will  wear  the  white  and  gold 
dress?"  asked  the  ayah,  as  Claudia  at  last  turned  from 

69 


70  EXILE 

the  glass.  She  had  had  her  bath  already;  the  coils 
of  her  gold  hair  were  bound  closely  round  her  head, 
there  was  no  delaying  the  final  putting  on  of  her 
gown,  and  declaring  herself  ready. 

"I  suppose  so,"  she  said  reluctantly.  She  would 
rather  have  worn  black — it  suited  her  mood,  and 
somehow  seemed  less  noticeable.  She  felt  that  she 
had  no  right  to  be  noticeable,  the  wife  of  a  man  who 
was  himself  an  unexposed  criminal,  even  though  the 
law  could  not  touch  him.  But  in  that  climate  women 
who  were  still  young  seldom  wore  anything  but  col- 
ours. At  least  the  gown  that  Bahoo  was  slipping  over 
her  head  was  a  dull  white  crepe — Chinese  crepe 
bought  at  Hassan's,  she  remembered,  and  ridiculously 
cheap  for  what  it  cost  in  England,  since  Exile  was 
an  open  port.  With  the  mere  name  of  Hassan  some 
whiff  of  that  strange  Arab  scent  seemed  in  her  nos- 
trils again,  and  her  eyes  had  grown  dreamy  while 
Bahoo  fastened  her  gown. 

The  sound  of  the  carriage  rolling  up  over  the  gravel 
roused  her  to  the  hurt  of  reality  and  what  it  portended. 
She  must  go  now, — she  tied  a  chiffon  scarf  over  her 
hair,  since  the  carriage  was  open  and  there  might  be 
a  wind,  and  Bahoo  dropped  the  cloak  on  to  her  shoul- 
ders. 

"Don't  wait  up  for  me,  Bahoo,  I  might  be  late," 
she  said  vaguely,  with  an  idle  wonder  as  to  how  it 
would  be  if  she  never  came  back  at  all — if  some  con- 
vulsion in  the  Rocks,  after  all  these  cycles  of  years, 
should  suddenly  engulf  the  petty,  troubled  life  at  their 
feet — an  insect  life  compared  to  their  immemorial  ex- 
istence. If  only  it  might  all  end  to-night — the  strain, 
and  the  bewildered  fear,  the  lost  ideal  of  her  husband, 


EXILE  71 

and  the  helpless  pain  of  her  love!  She  was  a  young 
woman  to  feel  that  death  would  be  an  infinite  relief 
in  the  vortex  of  her  mental  experience;  but  she  did 
feel  it,  without  either  sentimentality  or  affectation, 
as  the  carriage  bore  her  away  through  the  intersecting1 
roads  of  the  Rocks  towards  Government  House. 

It  had  struck  eight  some  ten  minutes  before  Mrs. 
Everard  drove  out  of  her  own  compound.  Dinner 
at  Government  House  was  always  at  8.30,  a  conces- 
sion to  the  Admiral's  preference,  for  the  usual  dinner 
hour  in  Exile  was  nine  o'clock.  The  carriage  dashed 
away  through  the  fringe  of  the  Fort,  and  up  another 
track  beyond  the  Marines'  quarters,  out  on  to  a  head- 
land which  was  accounted  the  healthiest  spot  in  Exile. 
It  commanded  two  bays,  and  the  sea  breezes  favoured 
Government  House  from  either  side.  Unless  there 
was  a  desert  wind,  or  no  wind  at  all,  there  was  always 
air  up  there;  but  to-night  it  chanced  that  there  was 
no  wind  at  all.  Mrs.  Everard  discovered  this  as  she 
turned  in  at  the  gates,  past  the  sentry,  and  unbound 
the  scarf  round  her  head,  giving  all  her  wraps  to  the 
red  and  gold  servants  awaiting  her  at  the  doors.  They 
took  charge  of  her,  and  marched  her  through  a  long 
grove  of  pillars  up  to  the  further  end  of  the  bungalow, 
where  Lady  Stroud  was  chatting  to  the  guests  already 
arrived. 

For  a  minute  Mrs.  Everard  could  not  turn  her  gaze 
from  the  Arabs'  turbans  as  they  announced  her,  she 
was  so  afraid  of  realising  Hervey's  presence.  But 
the  two  red  and  gold  figures  drew  back  and  left  her 
going  forward  blindly  to  reach  Lady  Stroud.  Then 
the  mists  round  her  cleared,  and  she  saw  with  a  sense 
of  relief  that  the  Government  engineer  was  not  pres- 


72  EXILE 

ent — only  the  Admiral  and  Lady  Stroud,  Barbara 
Playfair,  Mr.  Merryn,  Rodney  Haines,  and  the  Flag- 
Captain  and  Mrs.  Bunney.  Yet  Lady  Stroud  had  told 
her  a  week  since  who  was  coming,  and  had  begun  the 
list  with  Hervey.  Some  momentary  escape  had 
opened  out  for  her  from  an  impenetrable  fate,  that 
was  all  she  knew.  Of  course,  it  must  come  some  time 
— it  would  perhaps  be  better  to  get  it  over;  but  she 
breathed  long  and  sweetly  for  the  moment,  with  the 
enjoyment  of  not  feeling  an  icy  hand  on  her  heart. 

"Mr.  Everard  hasn't  returned  yet,  I  hear.  I  nearly 
telephoned  if  he  should  come  back  to  bring  him  too," 
said  Lady  Stroud  in  her  pleasant  voice.  It  seemed  to 
Mrs.  Everard  like  treachery  to  answer  that  voice,  and 
not  to  shudder  at  the  thought  of  Everard  eating  at  hon- 
ourable men's  tables.  Hervey  had  been  right  in  judg- 
ing that  the  disgrace  would  cut  her  deeply. 

"No,"  she  heard  herself  say  composedly.  "He  has 
not  even  settled  a  day  for  his  return.  Indeed,  if  he 
decides  to  stay  on  for  another  week,  I  might  be  tempt- 
ed to  join  him" — and  then  wondered  why  she  had  lied 
unnecessarily. 

"I  should,  if  I  were  you.  I  only  wish  we  were  out 
at  Health  ourselves,"  said  Lady  Stroud  cordially. 
"It  must  be  heavenly  after  the  heat  we've  had  lately. 
Captain  Bunney,  will  you  take  Mrs.  Everard?" 

Claudia  put  her  hand  on  Bunney's  white  coat-sleeve 
and  felt  a  sudden  conviction  that  she  was  ludicrously 
hungry  and  should  enjoy  her  dinner.  It  was  childish, 
but  the  cessation  of  immediate  fear  had  reacted  in  a 
desire  to  snatch  some  arrears  of  pleasure  from  trivial 
things.  Dinner  at  Government  House  was  generally 
informal,  unless  some  big  official  had  been  reluctantly 


EXILE  73 

ordered  to  Exile,  though  the  men  were  in  uniform  and 
they  drank  the  King's  health  sitting,  after  the  fashion 
of  the  Navy.  Mrs.  Everard  found  herself  between 
Bunney,  who  was  her  dinner  partner,  and  Rodney 
Haines,  who  had  brought  in  Lady  Stroud.  It  was 
a  round  table,  and  the  Admiral  was  sitting  nearly  op- 
posite, with  Mrs.  Bunney  on  one  side  of  him  and  his 
niece  on  the  other.  The  girl's  face  reminded  Claudia 
of  a  flower  again  in  its  extreme  transparency.  Her 
eyes  had  that  opening  look  which  a  flower  turns  on 
the  sun. 

"I  hope  that  if  the  soup  is  not  a  success  you  will 
none  of  you  allow  yourselves  to  be  poisoned  with  it !" 
said  Lady  Stroud  as  they  sat  down.  "I  confess  that 
it  is  an  experiment,  and  Ramzan  had  never  seen  such  a 
thing  in  India." 

"Callia,  isn't  it?"  said  Mrs.  Bunney,  mentioning  the 
one  wild  vegetable  that  grows  in  Exile — under  severe 
cultivation.  "I  think  it  quite  excellent.  And  of  course 
he  could  not  have  known  anything  like  it  in  India.  It 
is  a  triumph  for  Ramzan!" 

"It's  a  triumph  for  his  sex,  rather!"  said  the  Ad- 
miral with  a  twinkle  in  his  eyes.  "Even  in  the  do- 
mestic arts,  Mrs.  Bunney,  you  must  own  that  men  ex- 
cel women.  They  are  really  better  cooks!" 

"Yes,  their  hearts  are  in  it!"  said  Mrs.  Bunney 
sweetly,  and  the  Admiral  laughed  at  his  own  discom- 
fiture. 

"Not  even  the  fondest  interest  in  food  would  make 
a  Somali  a  good  cook,  however,"  amended  Captain 
Bunney.  "When  Freda  and  I  stayed  at  Half-way 
House,  on  our  way  to  Health,  Hassan  had  obligingly 
sent  us  a  Somali  to  cater  for  our  mortal  wants,  and 


74  EXILE 

it  very  nearly  ended  in  our  having  immortal  wants, 
for  he  did  his  best  to  poison  us." 

"Oh,  but  we  never  mess  at  Half-way  House  when 
we  go  out  there,"  said  Lady  Stroud.  "Mr.  Hervey's 
bungalow  is  far  too  convenient!  We  send  over  to 
him  for  every  single  thing  we  want,  if  we  do  not  actu- 
ally have  meals  with  him." 

"My  Government  engineer  has  to  combine  the  du- 
ties of  hotel  proprietor  with  his  own  for  the  enter- 
tainment of  the  Governor!"  said  the  Admiral  with  his 
rich  laugh.  "Ah,  well!  Hervey's  a  good  fellow. 
I  am  sorry  he  couldn't  come  to-night." 

"He  is  coming  in  later,  in  the  hope  of  some  music. 
Mr.  Haines,  your  fiddle  is  a  sure  magnet  for  Mr.  Her- 
vey.  He  is  extraordinarily  fond  of  music,  though  he 
does  not  say  much  about  it." 

"Oh,  Hervey  and  I  have  regular  caterwauls  over 
at  his  bungalow,"  said  the  Colonial  Secretary  with 
his  eager  smile.  "He  plays  my  accompaniments,  and 
then  I  play  and  he  criticises.  He's  a  fine  critic.  We 
must  get  Miss  Playfair  to  sing  for  him." 

"I  should  be  afraid!"  said  Barbara,  opening  her 
large  eyes. 

"I  am  sure  you  have  no  need  to  be!" 

"But  you  have  not  heard,  me  yet,"  said  the  girl 
with  her  usual  literalness. 

He  laughed  a  little,  and  then  something  drew  his 
attention  to  Mrs.  Everard,  who  had  leaned  back  in 
her  chair  and  was  taking  absolutely  no  part  in  the 
conversation.  He  always  wondered  what  it  was  that 
made  him  ask  her  if  she  felt  the  draught  from  the  elec- 
tric fans  too  much — if  she  were  cold? 

"Not  at  all,"  she  answered  him  calmly.    And  yet  he 


EXILE  75 

felt  as  if  she  had  been  shivering.  Perhaps  it  was  that 
dull  white  gown  she  wore,  and  her  colourless  skin, 
that  gave  him  a  sense  of  chill ;  but  it  was  a  very  beau- 
tiful effect  that  Claudia  Everard  created  with  her  pas- 
sionless face  and  figure. 

"Do  you  care  for  music,  Uncle  Jonathan?"  Barbara 
was  saying,  regarding  the  Admiral  with  her  limpid 
gaze.  She  was  a  favourite  already  with  him  because 
she  laughed  at  his  jokes  with  genuine  amusement,  and 
thought  him  quite  beautiful  in  his  uniform.  It  is 
difficult  to  resist  the  double  compliment  of  a  wit  and 
an  Adonis. 

"No,  my  dear,  I'm  a  Philistine  and  a  Goth,"  he  in- 
formed her  in  mock  confidence.  "Haines  caught  me 
asleep  one  night  when  his  rendering  of  Schubert  was 
drawing  tears  from  all  eyes,  and  since  then  I've  been 
ashamed  to  look  him  in  the  face.  The  gramophone  is 
about  my  standard  for  music.  We'll  have  the  gramo- 
phone out  after  dinner,  just  to  balance  Haines'  fiddle 
— turn  and  turn  about  with  him." 

"Oh,  my  dear,  I  do  hope  not!"  said  poor  Lady 
Stroud,  who  suffered  from  the  shocks  produced  by  her 
husband's  pet  records.  "You  don't  know  how  dread- 
ful it  was  on  Sunday,"  she  added,  turning  confiden- 
tially to  Rodney  Haines.  "The  Archdeacon  lunched 
with  us,  and  the  Admiral  insisted  on  his  hearing  the 
gramophone  before  he  left.  We  had  had  a  lot  of  new 
records  from  England,  and  some  of  the  labels  had  be- 
come unreadable.  Mr.  Merryn  put  in  one  that  we 
thought  was  "Waft  her,  Angels,"  and  the  wretched 
thing  began  to  grind  out  "He'd  pawned  his  bags  on 
Saturday  night,  and  couldn't  go  to  Church !"  I  believe 
the  Archdeacon  thought  we  did  it  on  purpose." 


76  EXILE 

There  was  a  roar  of  laughter  all  round  the  table, 
and  the  Admiral  laughed  loudest.  "We  didn't  realise 
what  had  happened  for  a  minute,"  he  said,  "because 
the  opening-  bars  are  so  like  a  hymn  tune.  And  Mer- 
ryn  lost  his  head  and  couldn't  stop  the  thing,  and  there 
was  that  music-hall  fellow  bellowing  out  of  the  record 
about  his  old  woman  asking  where  his  trousers  were, 
and  why  he  couldn't  get  out  of  bed!  That's  a  fine 
record — we  must  have  that  one  to-night!" 

"Really,  Jonathan!  I  must  draw  the  line  at  some 
of  your  records  now  we  have  Barbara  with  us,"  pro- 
tested Lady  Stroud,  seizing  on  the  girl's  presence  as 
a  merciful  protection. 

"But,  Aunt  Fanny,  I  like  gramophones!"  said  Bar- 
bara, leaning  across  the  table  in  her  eagerness,  with 
her  ingenuous  face  in  the  full  light  of  the  lamps. 
Even  Lieutenant  Merryn  smiled,  and  the  Admiral 
laughed  aloud  as  he  patted  her  shoulder. 

"That's  right,  Babs!  You  and  I  will  enjoy  our 
records  whatever  the  others  do.  There's  a  beauty 
called  'Nightcaps' " 

"Oh,  I  love  that  song!"  said  Barbara  serenely.  "It 
comes  into  the  Pyjama  Girls.  They  used  to  sing  it 
on  board  coming  out." 

Mrs.  Everard  looked  half  curiously  at  Rodney 
Haines  as  he  sat  beside  her,  with  some  curious  intui- 
tion that  he  was  being  subtly  hurt — just  as  he  had 
known  that  she  was  cold  with  terror,  though  he  had 
not  recognised  the  terror.  There  was  a  certain  sym- 
pathy between  their  minds  that  had  often  helped  her 
to  understand  him,  and  she  wondered  rather  pityingly 
why  he  should  have  to  suffer  through  this  large-eyed 
girl  who  was  so  truthfully  laying  bare  the  shallows 


EXILE  77 

of  her  nature.  He  was  regarding  Barbara  across  the 
table  with  the  tender  indulgence  one  would  give  to  a 
child,  and  yet  Mrs.  Everard  divined  that  the  girl's 
frank  liking  for  gramophone  music  left  him  a  little 
blank.  Probably  he  did  not  himself  know  that  he  had 
wanted  Barbara  Playfair  to  have  a  mind  that  could 
respond  to  his  own,  to  feel  the  magic  of  music  as  he 
felt  it,  even  unto  tears.  He  looked  at  her  candid  face 
and  imagined  her  as  a  flower  or  some  unrippled  sur- 
face of  pure  water;  and  all  the  while  Barbara  was 
just  a  girl. 

With  that  premonition  of  trouble  for  him  upon  her, 
Claudia  Everard  watched  him  later  on,  when  after 
dinner  they  walked  through  the  pillars  back  into  the 
drawing-room,  or  rather  that  portion  of  the  bungalow 
which  was  used  for  a  reception-room,  for  it  was  really 
all  one.  She  was  herself  standing  by  the  piano — one 
of  the  few  pianos  in  Exile,  where  they  were  ruined  by 
the  climate — and  he  was  crossing  the  room  with  his 
violin  in  his  hands,  for  she  was  to  play  his  accompani- 
ment. He  walked  with  a  queer  little  swing  that  was 
suggestive  of  a  lame  gait,  though  he  was  not  really 
lame,  and  for  the  first  time  it  flashed  across  her  that 
the  reason  she  had  thought  his  face  pathetic  was  that 
there  was  a  look  in  it  that  one  sees  in  the  faces  of  crip- 
pled or  deformed  people. 

"What  have  you  chosen?"  she  said,  taking  the  mu- 
sic from  him.  "Gounod's  'Serenade.'  Do  you  ever 
feel  that  you  have  moods  in  which  you  cannot  play 
certain  music?  Does  your  music  depend  at  all  upon 
your  frame  of  mind?" 

"I  have  had  that  sort  of  thing  knocked  out  of  me 
through  my  work,"  he  answered  with  a  little  shrug  of 


78  EXILE 

his  shoulders.  "You  can't  afford  to  have  moods  in 
the  Colonial  Service!"  and  he  made  a  wry  little  face 
that  in  another  man  would  have  been  a  laugh.  Rod- 
ney Haines  did  not  often  laugh,  though  when  he  did 
his  laugh  was  as  genuine  as  a  boy's;  but  his  voice  in 
speaking  was  merry,  and  he  had  a  certain  personal 
humour  as  if  he  shared  a  joke  with  himself  rather 
than  with  mankind. 

Claudia  sat  down  to  play  for  him,  wishing  she  could 
see  the  audience,  for  she  was  curious  as  to  how  the 
music  would  affect  certain  of  them.  The  aching 
sweetness  of  the  "Serenade"  always  struck  her  as  a 
little  out  of  place  in  the  lights  and  convention  of  a 
drawing-room,  and  in  Haines'  hands  it  lost  nothing  of 
its  lover's  appeal.  He  drew  the  bow  over  the  strings 
a  little  slowly  at  first,  more  slowly  than  is  usual,  and 
she  hardly  realised  when  the  music  quickened,  with  a 
hint  of  delicious  passion,  until  the  violin  seemed  a 
veritable  whisper  under  a  balcony.  There  was  no 
doubt  that  the  Colonial  Secretary  of  Exile  was  a  very 
exceptional  amateur,  and  if  his  technique  was  not  al- 
ways flawless  he  had  more  than  a  touch  of  genius. 
But  Mrs.  Everard  had  never  heard  him  play  better 
than  he  did  to-night,  and  though  it  was  only  Gounod's 
"Serenade,"  that  she  had  heard  a  hundred  times,  she 
felt  as  if  something  were  awakening  in  the  player 
through  the  familiar,  exquisite  air. 

"I  always  feel  that  I  have  been  defrauded  of  some- 
thing when  I  have  been  playing  your  accompani- 
ments," she  said  gravely  as  she  rose  from  the  piano. 
"I  cannot  properly  listen  to  you — and  cry." 

He  glanced  at  her  quickly,  and  to  his  surprise  saw 


EXILE  79 

that  two  great  gems  were  really  hanging  on  the  fringe 
of  her  lashes.  He  had  never  noticed  that  Mrs.  Ever- 
ard  was  affected  in  this  way  before,  often  as  she  had 
played  for  him,  because  he  had  always  been  lightly 
parrying  the  applause  and  the  thanks  that  his  audi- 
ence showered  on  him  for  his  own  performance.  He 
thought  he  liked  her  better  than  ever  before,  not  for 
the  flattery  of  her  tears,  but  because  of  the  added 
beauty  of  her  face. 

"Does  music  always  affect  you  like  that?"  he  said. 
"Perhaps  you  are  like  me — I  fancy  it  is  my  one  strong 
emotion." 

"It  depends  on  the  music,"  said  Claudia  with  a  fine 
smile.  "You  will  not  find  me  crying  over  the  gramo- 
phone !" 

They  sat  down  side  by  side  to  hear  the  next  item  on 
the  programme,  which  was  Barbara's  singing.  Lady 
Stroud  played  for  her,  and  Mr.  Merryn's  duty  as* 
A.D.C.  decreed  that  he  turned  over  the  music.  Ban 
bara  had  chosen  a  new  song  that  had  no  affinity  witb 
the  ballad  type,  and  was  of  a  school  that  has  entirely 
ousted  the  "Some  Day"  and  "In  the  Gloaming"  of 
the  eighties.  It  is  probable  that  her  mother  sang 
"Some  Day,"  but  the  sickliness  of  those  lovelorn  dit- 
ties was  less  incongruous  to  the  atmosphere  of  a  draw- 
ing-room than  the  words  which  Barbara  sang  with- 
out the  least  conception  of  their  meaning. 

"Our  life  is  like  a  narrow  raft 

Afloat  upon  a  hungry  sea: 
Hereon  is  but  a  little  space, 
And  each  man,  eager  for  a  place, 
Doth  thrust  his  brother  in  the  sea. 


8o  EXILE 

(And  each  man,  eager  for  a  place, 

Doth  thrust  his  brother  in  the  sea.) 
And  so  our  sea  is  salt  with  tears, 
And  so  our  life  is  wan  with  fears. 

Ah,  well  is  thee  thou  art  asleep !" 1 

The  tune  was  happily  minor,  and  not  too  accentuated. 
It  was  one  of  those  songs  whose  soul  is  more  in  the 
words  than  in  the  music,  but  the  two  complemented 
each  other  well  enough  had  the  singer  ever  lived  and 
learned.  Barbara's  voice  was  the  pure,  tuned  organ 
of  a  child,  developed  by  careful  practice,  and  trained 
to  work  easily  and  gracefully — that  is  to  say,  she  drew 
breath  and  produced  her  notes  correctly  and  with  ease. 
But  the  incongruity  of  her  level  utterance  and  entire 
lack  of  expression  made  it  almost  ludicrous  to  Mrs. 
Everard's  ears.  She  glanced  at  Haines  and  saw  that 
he  was  looking  down,  his  sensitive  lips  a  little  drawn. 
There  was  something  that  was  almost  pained  surprise 
in  his  face,  despite  his  control  of  his  muscles. 

Merryn  turned  the  page  at  the  conscientious  mo- 
ment, and  stood  upright  with  an  air  of  relief.  The 
song  struck  him  as  a  very  silly  one,  but  he  vaguely 
enjoyed  the  girl's  lissom  figure  and  unruffled  face  as 
she  opened  her  red  lips  and  sang  from  her  chest — she 
was  certainly  not  singing  from  her  heart,  but  then 
Lieutenant  Merryn  saw  nothing  to  put  your  heart  into 
in  such  nonsense. 

"Our  life  is  like  a  curious  play 

Where  each  man  acteth  to  himself. 

'Let  us  be  open  as  the  day !' 

One  mask  doth  to  the  other  say 
That   he   may   deeper  hide  himself. 


1 1  do  not  know  who  is  the  author  of  these  words.    They 
are  from  a  poem  called  "Life." 


EXILE  8l 

('Let  us  be  open  as  the  day!' 

That  he  may  deeper  hide  himself.) 
And  so  the  world  goes  round  and  round 
Until  our  life  with  rest  is  crowned. 
Ah,  well  is  thee  thou  art  asleep !" 

"Thank  you!"  said  Merryn  as  the  girl  turned  and 
lifted  the  song  from  the  stand. 

"Bravo,  Barbara!"  said  Lady  Stroud  kindly.  "You 
have  a  delightful  voice.  But,  my  dear,  what  an  accom- 
paniment to  read  at  sight!" 

"I  am  afraid  it  is  tiresome,"  said  the  girl  in  her 
fresh,  speaking  voice — so  much  more  animated  than 
her  singing! — "Thank  you  so  much,  Aunt  Fanny!" 

"Do  you  sing  'Because'  ?"  asked  Merryn  a  little  dif- 
fidently. He  could  understand  "Because,"  and  he 
thought  the  sentiment  beautiful  in  the  English  version ; 
he  did  not  know  the  French.  "I  should  think  it  would 
suit  your  voice  awfully  well." 

"It  is  rather  hackneyed,  isn't  it?"  said  Barbara.  "I 
got  this  one" — touching  the  music  she  held — "because 
it  is  quite  new,  but  people  are  beginning  to  talk 
about  it." 

"What  a  curious  reason  for  choosing  a  song,"  said 
Mrs.  Everard  with  a  little  smile  to  Rodney  Haines. 
"And  how  like  a  child!" 

He  was  sitting  with  his  head  in  his  hands,  in  an 
attitude  of  unintentional  despair. 

"It  was  the  wrong  song  for  her  altogether,"  he 
said  desperately.  "But  she  could  sing  some  of  Chami- 
nade's." 

"Or  those  folk-songs  from  the  English  counties," 
said  Mrs.  Everard.  "If  she  only  would!  How  de- 
lightful the  "Raggle-taggle  Gipsies"  would  be  in  thai 


82  .  EXILE 

unspoiled  young  voice !  I  never  dared  to  attempt  it." 
"It  wants  the  insouciance  of  youth,"  he  agreed,  his 
face  lighting  up  again.  "And  her  execution  is  quite 
good  enough.  When  I  know  her  better  I  will  suggest 
it  to  her." 

"She  will  not  thank  you!"  said  Mrs.  Everard,  a 
little  whimsically.  "She  thinks  she  is  quite  mature 
enough  for  the  rendering  of  any  dreadful  truth — she 
does  not  want  to  be  sent  back  to  the  nursery."  And 
Mr.  Merryn  has  just  urged  her  to  sing  'Because'!" 

"Oh,  heavens!"  he  exclaimed,  and  sprang  up  with 
one  of  his  impulsive  movements  as  if  to  prevent  the 
threatened  visitation.  Claudia  saw  him  cross  the  space 
to  the  piano  with  that  curious  halting  gait  and  inter- 
rupt the  desultory  conversation  between  Barbara  and 
Merryn  without  apparent  intrusion,  but  by  the  very 
force  of  his  more  dominant  personality.  She  watched 
him  leaning  over  the  instrument,  talking  with  his  eyes, 
his  shoulders,  his  hands,  every  expressive  bit  of  him 
as  well  as  his  lips.  He  was  always  living  a  great  deal 
harder  than  other  people  and  the  fire  of  life  burnt  his 
eyes  hollow  and  the  lines  into  his  face.  For  it  was  a 
dissatisfied  face,  as  of  a  man  for  ever  asking  and  get- 
ting no  answer,  though  Haines  himself  was  but  dimly 
aware  of  it,  and  would  have  laughed  off  the  suspicion 
as  a  jest.  After  a  minute  his  mere  vitality  drew  the 
girl  away  from  the  Flag-Lieutenant  as  by  a  magnet 
and  absorbed  her  in  his  eagerness,  and  she  stood 
listening  to  him  with  that  pliancy  of  her  youth  that 
made  his  momentary  ascendancy  seem  like  mastery. 
She  was  not  talking  much  herself — Barbara  never  did 
talk  much  to  Rodney  Haines — but  she  appeared  quite 
compliant. 


EXILE  83 

"He  will  not  let  her  sing-  'Because'!"  said  Claudia 
wisely. 

But  the  Colonial  Secretary  need  not  have  troubled, 
as  the  strictly  musical  programme  was  over,  for  the 
minute  at  any  rate.  The  Admiral  proposed  an  ad- 
journment to  the  compound,  where  lounging  chairs 
were  nightly  set,  and  on  windless  nights  the  gramo- 
phone stood  on  its  own  table  and  absorbed  the  energies 
of  Mr.  Merryn,  who  sat  by  its  side  like  a  lion- tamer 
with  his  beast.  The  invention  of  the  gramophone 
extended  the  duties  of  an  A.D.C.  beyond  the  carrying 
of  cloaks  and  paying  of  obligatory  calls.  His  servi- 
tude was  for  the  moment  so  punctilious  that  it  drew  a 
comment  even  from  Mrs.  Bunney. 

"I  wouldn't  be  a  flag-lieutenant  on  shore,  in  his 
capacity  as  A.D.C. ,  for  anything,"  she  whispered  to 
Claudia  in  confidence,  tfieir  chairs  happening  to  be 
side  by  side.  "My  husband  says  it  is  an  acid  job. 
Mr.  Merryn  looks  like  nothing  on  earth !" 

"I  hope  it  leads  to  something,"  said  Mrs.  Everard 
kindly.  "Any  one  doing  the  duty  of  an  A.D.C. 
seems  to  me  to  serve  seven  years  for  Leah  without 
the  hope  of  Rachel!" 

"He  is  better  off  than  most,  anyhow.  The  Strouds 
are  archangels;  they  treat  him  like  a  son." 

"They  are  very  good  to  all  their  staff.  Mr.  Smyth 
— I  mean  the  Admiral's  secretary,  not  the  E.  T.  Smyth 
— sat  next  to  me  at  the  Debating  Club  and  spent  the 
evening  in  telling  me  how  they  looked  after  him  when 
he  was  down  with  fever.  Where  is  he  to-night?" 

"Pigging  it  with  Dr.  Bride.  I  hate  a  grass-wid- 
ower's household;  it  is  all  cold  soup  and  the  smell 


84  EXILE 

of  yesterday.  The  food  used  to  be  quite  good  while 
Mrs.  Bride  was  out  here,  but  I  suppose  that  was  on 
Mr.  Hervey's  account." 

"Hush!"  said  Claudia,  rather  suddenly.  "I  think 
we  ought  not  to  talk." 

The  mysterious  clearing  of  its  throat  which  a 
gramophone  always  makes  to  ensure  silence  had  given 
way  to  the  first  bars  of  an  obviously  comic  song.  It 
did  not  need  the  Admiral's  huge  chuckle  to  prepare 
the  company  for  the  tones  of  Mr.  Rorty  Bill's  well- 
known  voice  issuing  from  the  decorous  wooden  box 
in  riotous  assertion: 

"I  am  a  man  who  lives  by  rule 
To  make  me  fit  for  Heaven: 
I  rise  at  eight,  and  go  to  bed 
Somewhere  about  eleven. 
But  just  before  I  Foxy-trot 
Away  to  by-by  on  the  spot, 
I  like  a  glass  of  something  hot — 

It  is  my  little  nightcap ! 
Nightcap — nightcap — everybody's  nightcap. 
Some  prefer  it  red  as  rum,  and  some  prefer  a  white  cap ! 
My  old  woman  calls  it  sin, — 
But  I  should  call  it  Plymouth  gin 
When  she  concocts  a  nightcap!" 

Claudia,  lifting  her  head,  looked  straight  up  into  the 
endless  sky,  where  the  stars  drew  back  and  back  into 
infinite  distance.  The  compound  was  an  open  space 
of  baked  earth  in  lieu  of  a  garden,  screened  in  by 
trellis- work  instead  of  trees.  It  was  on  the  level  of 
the  plateau  where  Government  House  stood,  but  im- 
mediately beyond  the  trellis- work  the  hill  fell  swiftly 
to  one  of  the  bays,  and  on  the  further  side  rose  the 
tremendous  outline  of  the  Rocks.  There  was  a  carpet 


EXILE  85 

spread  upon  the  bare  ground,  for  the  night  dew  lay 
heavily  upon  everything — even  upon  the  lounging 
chairs  and  the  gramophone  on  its  table.  The  lamp 
behind  the  gramophone  burned  steadily,  and  its  light 
fell  most  brilliantly  on  Lieutenant  Merryn's  immov- 
able, good-looking  face  as  he  renewed  or  put  in  rec- 
ords, and  more  faintly  on  the  other  members  of  the 
group.  Contrasted  with  the  width  of  the  sky  and 
the  stars,  the  little  cluster  of  men  and  women  listening 
to  the  gramophone  seemed  to  dwindle  and  shrink  to 
the  dimensions  of  busy  ants. 

"Nightcaps — nightcaps — pretty  little  nightcaps ! 
All  the  girlies  go  to  bed  in  pink  or  blue  or  white  caps ! 
'Kiss  me  for  a  last  good-night, 
And  tuck  me  in  so  nice  and  tight !' 
They  murmur  from  their  nightcaps!" 

The  Admiral  had  laughed  his  full  and  the  record 
had  been  changed.  Mrs.  Everard  brought  her  gaze 
down  from  Orion,  striding  across  the  heavens,  and 
was  vaguely  aware  that  Barbara  had  laughed  quite 
as  whole-heartedly  as  her  uncle,  and  was  now  listening 
with  equal  enjoyment  to  the  swing  of  a  waltz  refrain. 
Her  foot  kept  time  mechanically  to  the  rhythm,  and 
her  eyes  chanced  to  wander  to  Lieutenant  Merryn's 
erect  white  and  black  figure  in  its  mess-coat  and 
evening  trousers.  No  doubt  he  would  be  an  excellent 
partner  in  a  waltz.  He  looked  strong  and  in  training, 
and  he  had  a  good  ear  for  rhythm.  Claudia's  eyes 
turned  from  the  girl  a  little  wonderingly  to  the 
Colonial  Secretary,  who,  with  his  head  tilted  back, 
was  following  her  own  abandoned  study  of  the  stars. 

"Let's  have  'I'll  butt  in!'     Come  Merryn,  give  us 


86  EXILE 

Til  butt  in !'  "  said  the  Admiral  as  the  waltz  ended 
with  a  methodical  clash. 

"My  dear!"  said  Lady  Stroud  gently.  She  glanced 
at  Merryn.  The  blood  had  risen  a  little  in  his  face, 
and  he  looked  as  though  embarrassed  between  laughter 

and  dismay.  "Shall  I ?"  he  ^hesitated,  meeting 

her  eyes. 

"Jonathan,  we  really  can't  have  that  second 
verse !" 

"Well,  let's  send  Barbara  to  bed !"  said  the  Admiral 
wickedly. 

"Oh,  no,  Uncle  Jonathan!" 

In  the  universal  laughter  the  advance  of  the  two 
turbaned  servants  was  unobserved ;  but  Lady  Stroud's 
salvation  in  the  nick  of  time  was  secured  by  the  new 
arrival  entering  the  circle. 

"Mr.  Hervey!"  said  the  Arabs,  bowing  low;  and 
in  the  next  breath  "Mrs.  Everard's  carriage!" 

Mrs.  Everard  had  risen  leisurely  as  Lady  Stroud 
was  greeting  the  Government  engineer,  and  had  com- 
bated the  protests  about  her  early  departure  before  he 
had  fairly  entered  the  compound. 

"It  is  half-past  eleven,"  she  said.  "Thank  you!" 
— for  Hervey  had  stepped  back  to  allow  her  room  to 
pass  through  the  opening  of  the  trellis  into  the  hall. 

"Can  I  find  your  cloak  for  you?"  he  said  of  neces- 
sity, and  she  answered  "Thank  you !"  again,  surprised 
that  her  voice  obeyed  her  will  at  all,  for  her  whole 
body  shook  as  if  with  ague. 

For  a  moment  they  were  alone  on  the  further  side 
of  the  trellis  to  the  rest  of  the  party,  who  were  still 
arguing  for  and  against  "I'll  butt  in!"  punctuated  by 


EXILE  87 

the  Admiral's  mellow  laugh.  Now  was  the  moment 
that  she  must  grasp.  Now  this  task  given  her  had 
to  be  attempted.  And  she  was  paralysed.  She  looked 
at  Hervey's  huge  bulk,  the  massive  head  and  shoulders 
towering  above  her,  and  his  physical  weight  seemed 
crushing  her.  She  could  have  screamed  for  mercy, 
both  for  her  husband  and  herself. 

And  then  her  voice  spoke  like  a  disembodied  thing, 
a  servant  obedient  to  subconscious  control. 

"Are  you  very  busy  just  now,  Mr.  Hervey?"  it  said. 
"Could  you  call  upon  me — soon?  To-morrow,  if 
possible.  I  want  to  talk  to  you  on  business." 

He  turned  rather  slowly — he  was  too  big  a  man  for 
hasty  movements — and  looked  at  her  with  level  grey 
eyes.  It  struck  her  that  she  had  seldom  seen  such 
cold  dislike  in  any  one's  eyes.  Men  were  mostly  too 
indifferent  to  her  to  hate  her. 

"Yes,"  he  said  deliberately.  "I  will  do  my  best 
to  call  upon  you  to-morrow,  Mrs.  Everard.  I  am 
engaged  in  the  afternoon,  but — about  six  o'clock?" 

"Thank  you!"  she  said  again,  almost  inaudibly. 
His  immediate  compliance  had  told  her  that  he  knew 
the  subject  of  the  business  to  be  discussed  with  him, 
and  his  next  words  struck  her  as  rather  ghastly  in  the 
light  of  this  comprehension. 

"I  hope  that  you  have  no  complaints  to  make  of 
the  new  installation?"  he  said  with  conventional 
courtesy. 

"No,  it  is  not  the  electric  light,"  she  said  with  stiff 
lips.  "Good-night!" 

She  bent  her  head  as  he  stood  aside  for  her  to  pass 
out  of  the  hall.  It  was  still  bent  as  she  got  into  the 


88  EXILE 

carriage  and  was  driven  downhill.    Half-way  home  it 
was  buried  in  her  hands  and  she  was  crying  bitterly. 

Hervey's  prognostication  had  come  true.  But  it 
was  not  because  she  was  a  good  woman  that  Mrs. 
Everard  had  cried. 


CHAPTER   V 

"And  so  the  good  gay  girl,  with  eyes  and  cheeks 
Diamond  and  damask — cheeks  so  white  erewhile 
Because  of  a  vague  fancy,  idle  fear 
Chased  on  reflection! — pausing,  taps  discreet; 

'Open  the  door!' 

No:  let  the  curtain  fall!" 

ROBERT  BROWNING. 

HERVEY'S  engagement  on  the  following  after- 
noon was  to  take  the  Government  House  party 
over  the  waterworks  at  Reserve.  Lady  Stroud  had 
asked  him  to  fix  a  day  for  Miss  Playfair  to  see  them, 
and  he  had  named  an  early  date  because  he  thought  it 
likely  that  he  would  be  cruising  next  week  with  the 
Admiral.  Sir  Jonathan  was  never  very  dependable 
in  his  plans,  and  would  surprise  his  staff  by  taking 
the  flag-ship  up  the  Gulf  or  down  to  Seychelles  with 
a  suddenness  that  made  everybody  strenuous  before- 
hand for  twenty-four  hours.  Since  the  war  it  had 
been  found  advisable  to  relieve  the  East  Indian  and 
Cape  commands  by  curtailing  their  extended  beats, 
and'  there  had  been  two  cruisers  and  a  gunboat  or  so 
at  Exile,  as  well  as  the  torpedo  flotilla  that  was  con- 
stantly coming  and  going.  But  Exile  was  even  more 
valued  for  the  facilities  of  its  dockyard  than  as  a  naval 
station,  and  was  rapidly  increasing  in  importance  on 
this  account. 

89 


90  EXILE 

Hervey  was  a  frequent  guest  on  the  Silverside  when 
she  was  cruising.  He  was  an  excellent  sailor  and  no 
habit  that  she  had  of  kicking  in  a  swell  could  banish 
him  from  meals  (it  was  notorious  that  the  Admiral 
was  always  sick  for  the  first  twelve  hours  at  sea)  ; 
and  men  always  appreciated  him  as  a  companion  what- 
ever his  moral  drawbacks.  Perhaps  he  was  too 
massive  of  mind  and  body  to  adapt  himself  easily  to 
women's  fellowship,  for,  save  those  who  knew  him 
too  intimately,  women  did  not  cultivate  him.  Lady 
Stroud,  it  is  true,  liked  him  in  spite  of  herself,  and 
Barbara  Playfair  was  inclined  to  give  him  a  wonder- 
ing admiration,  which  was  generally  his  portion  from 
girls.  To  the  majority  of  the  women  in  Exile  he  was 
more  or  less  of  a  dangerous  experiment,  better  let 
alone.  But  men  of  all  ages  would  rather  go  out  to 
his  bungalow  in  the  desert,  or  to  his  quarters  in 
Reserve,  than  to  any  other  house  in  Exile. 

It  happened,  therefore,  as  he  expected,  and  he  had 
not  been  five  minutes  at  Government  House  before 
the  Admiral  turned  to  him  with  an  invitation. 

"Going  with  me  on  Thursday,  Hervey?  I'm  off 
to  Bunder  Abbas." 

"I  thought  Bunney  looked  rather  greyer  than  he 
was  last  week,"  said  Hervey  drily,  narrowing  his  eyes 
as  he  glanced  across  at  the  Flag-Captain.  "All  right, 
sir;  I'll  be  delighted." 

"Only  a  week's  cruise — just  to  keep  her  going," 
said  the  Admiral.  "Haines  stays  here  to  represent 
me,  as  Colonel  Darner  is  down  with  fever,  and  Merryn 
comes  along  with  us." 

"Oh,  Uncle  Jonathan,   I  do  hope  you  won't  take 


EXILE  91 

the  gramophone!"  said  Barbara  earnestly;  and  there 
was  fresh  laughter. 

"Who's  going  to  work  it  for  you  if  I  take  Merryn?" 
asked  the  Admiral.  "You  can't  ask  Haines — he's 
the  boss  here,  pro  tern." 

*"Qh,  Mr.  Merryn  can  show  me  how  before  he 
leaves.  I'll  work  it,"  said  Barbara  readily. 

"I  shall  find  all  my  best  records  worn  out  before 
I  get  back,"  grumbled  the  Admiral,  to  tease  her.  "I'll 
leave  it  on  condition  that  you  don't  have  'Nightcaps' 
more  than  twice  a  night,  Babs,  and  Til  butt  in !'  only 
once." 

"Oh,  Uncle,  you've  quite  spoiled  my  plans !  I  meant 
to  have  known  them  both  by  heart  by  the  time  you 
got  back." 

"Do  you  sing,  Miss  Playfair?"  Hervey  asked  at 
once,  turning  to  her. 

"Not  very  successfully,"  said  Barbara  with  unex- 
pected shrewdness.  "I  sang  a  song  to-night  that  Mr. 
Merryn  thought  was  stupid  and  Mr.  Haines  beyond 
my  compass." 

Merryn  flushed  uncomfortably,  but  Haines  laughed. 
"Not  your  compass,  your  experience,"  he  said  frankly. 
"Wait  till  you  sing  to  Hervey ;  he  is  a  far  more  brutal 
critic  than  Merryn  or  I." 

"I  should  be  afraid  to  sing  to  Mr.  Hervey,  any- 
how," said  Barbara,  turning  her  candid  eyes  on  the 
Government  engineer.  "Are  you  as  fierce  as  you 
look,  Mr.  Hervey?" 

"No,  only  as  people  make  me  look,"  he  responded 
good-humoured ly.  "If  you  sang  flat  I  might  be  ex- 
cused for  a  savage  distortion  of  my  features,  surely!" 

"Miss  Playfair  would  never  sing  flat — 'those  pure 


92  EXILE 

sopranos  never  do,"  said  Haines  with  the  certainty  of 
the  expert.  "But  she  might  go  sharp,  if  she  strained 
her  notes  at  all." 

The  girl  turned  her  face  to  him  wonderingly. 
"What  a  wonderful  ear  you  must  have,  or  how  keenly 
you  must  have  listened  to  know  that  already!"  she 
said.  "You  might  have  been  studying  me  and  my 
voice  for  years — and  I  only  met  you  yesterday!" 

"Some  days  count  in  eternity,"  said  Haines 
quietly. 

Barbara  thought  privately  that  he  was  trying  to  be 
clever,  and  she  wished  he  wouldn't.  She  always 
thought  that  a  truth  must  be  an  epigram  if  it  did 
not  rest  upon  a  material  statement.  A  fine  day  to 
Barbara  meant  that  it  was  not  raining,  but  she  had 
an  uncomfortable  impression  that  to  Haines  it  might 
have  meant  that  his  soul  was  at  peace  with  itself. 

Yet  she  liked  Rodney  Haines,  and  liked  him  more 
and  more  with  each  hour  spent  in  his  company.  He 
was  so  deft  and  tactful,  and  so  kind;  and  then  he 
was  always  at  her  elbow,  and  that  meant  that  he  was 
the  immediate  thing  in  her  mind.  She  was  not  biassed 
in  favour  of  one  man  or  another,  and  the  one  who 
was  nearest  had  her  interest.  When  they  motored 
over  to  Reserve  the  following  afternoon  the  two 
ladies  were  escorted  by  the  Colonial  Secretary  and 
Mr.  Merryn.  The  Admiral  was  busy  in  the  dockyard 
harrowing  the  soul  of  his  chief  of  staff  and  the  secre- 
tary over  next  week's  cruise,  and  Rodney  Haines  took 
his  place  with  Lady  Stroud.  When  they  reached  the 
works,  however,  Hervey  was  waiting  for  them,  and 
naturally  dropped  into  place  beside  the  Governor's 
wife,  leaving  Haines  to  follow  with  Barbara.  Mr. 


EXILE  93 

Merryn  brought  up  the  rear  with  Lady  Stroud's  sun- 
shade. She  had  contracted  a  habit  of  giving  him 
something  to  carry,  as  one  does  a  well-bred  retriever, 
when  he  had  no  one  to  escort — perhaps  to  console 
him,  perhaps  to  keep  him  in  gentle  training. 

The  waterworks  are  supposed  to  be,  and  perhaps 
are,  the  most  important  buildings  in  Exile;  but  it  is 
as  much  what  they  represent  as  their  appearance  that 
is  imposing.  They  stand  in  a  gap  between  the  Rocks, 
lifted  high  over  the  plateau  of  Reserve,  and  are  partly 
built  upon  what  was  actually  the  old  bed  of  the  river 
that  had  watered  the  city  of  the  Phoenicians.  When 
Richard  Hervey  first  came  to  Exile,  fifteen  years  be- 
fore, he  was  prospecting  for  the  Government,  who 
were  considering  the  possibilities  of  finding  oil  in  the 
desert-land  beyond  the  chain  of  hills  of  which  the 
Rocks  are  the  outliers.  Hervey  came  to  burrow  for 
oil  and  report;  but  the  devil  of  energy  was  in  him  at 
five-and-twenty,  and  he  burrowed  for  water  as  well 
as  oil,  having  learned  its  value  in  Exile.  At  that 
time  there  was,  as  Haines  had  told  Barbara  Playfair, 
an  Eastern  Telegraph  station  where  the  Marines'  mess 
now  stands,  a  gunboat  in  Fort  Bay  (which  was  then 
a  small  coaling  station  for  tramps),  and  a  condensing 
plant  to  supply  fresh  water  for  the  few  who  cursed 
their  lot  at  being  quartered  on  a  few  miles  of  rock 
and  desert;  but  that  was  all  save  for  the  Arab  popu- 
lation, who  haunted  the  European  settlement  like 
scavenger  dogs.  Hervey  messed  with  the  E.  T.  staff, 
and  asked  ageless  questions  that  nearly  got  him  tum- 
bled over  Fort  Head  into  the  sea.  Like  Arthur 
Clennam,  "he  wanted  to  know,"  and  nobody  could 
inform  him  because  it  was  nobody's  business  to  find 


94  EXILE 

out.  Where  was  the  old  city  of  the  Phoenicians 
exactly,  and  why  was  it  embedded  amongst  the  Rocks 
rather  than  on  the  fine  natural  harbour  of  Fort  Bay? 
Whence  had  the  Phoenicians  got  their  water,  and,  if 
there  had  been  a  considerable  river  to  make  Exile  a 
port  of  such  importance  to  them,  where  was  that 
river  now?  Rivers  large  enough  to  float  Phoenician 
galleys  and  form  a  trade  route  for  their  merchandise 
do  not  generally  run  dry  or  dwindle  into  mere  pools. 

To  which  the  E.  T.  staff  responded,  "Dry  up  your- 
self, or  get  out!" 

Hervey  laughed,  and  went  to  dig  in  Reserve. 
There  was  an  Arab  village  of  sorts  there,  even  in 
those  days,  and  the  Arabs  could  tell  him  more  about 
the  formation  of  the  Rocks  and  their  origin  than  the 
Europeans.  Reserve  plateau  was  the  result  of  vol- 
canic action,  but  the  convulsion  that  had  spewed  up 
the  Rocks  in  ages  before  that  of  the  Phoenicians  had 
not  been  followed  by  the  extinction  of  the  forces 
below,  which  a  few  million  years  later  tore  out  a 
chasm  in  what  were  then  green  mountains,  and  poured 
boiling  lava  in  sheets  upon  the  face  of  the  living  earth, 
stilling  it  to  death.  Incidentally  it  had  buried  the 
Phoenician  city  and  altered  the  course  of  the  river, 
which  had  been  swallowed  up  in  the  earth's  wounded" 
breast.  The  Arabs,  however,  showed  Hervey  traces  of 
the  old  watercourse,  choked  with  volcanic  dust  and 
refuse  and  the  debrtis  washed  down  from  the  moun- 
tains, sometimes  buried  under  the  lava,  but  unmistak- 
ably there  and  leading  through  the  rocky  chain  down 
to  the  coast. 

"If  we  could  recover  the  water  supply  it  would 
make  Exile  second  only  to  Malta!"  said  Hervey  (it 


EXILE  95 

must  be  remembered  that  he  was  twenty-five).  "We 
could  have  a  floating  dock.  There's  draught  enough 
there  for  the  biggest  ship  afloat.  And  we  should  have 
fresh  water  for  a  garrison.  But  where  is  the  river?" 

The  Arabs  pointed  downwards,  and  showed  him  a 
further  mystery.  Six  months  before  there  had  been 
a  slight  earthquake  shock,  not  an  unknown  occurrence 
in  Exile,  but  productive  this  time  of  fresh  fissures 
in  the  Rocks.  "Since  this  had  happened  the  surface  of 
the  Rocks  which  formed  part  of  the  chasm  torn  by 
the  volcano  was  sometimes  wet.  It  must  have  been 
the  wall  of  the  old  river  bed. 

"The  Phoenician  city  was  on  a  lower  level,"  said 
Hervey.  "The  lava  overflowed  the  whole  crater,  and 
the  convulsion  shifted  those  solid  rocks  as  a  chess- 
player moves  a  pawn.  The  river's  there  still, — it  runs 
right  under  the  desert,  and  probably  comes  from  the 
mountains  in  Arabia.  After  a  rainfall  the  water  level 
rises  now,  because  the  earthquake  squeezed  up  some 
of  the  fissures  in  the  rock  and  stopped  the  underflow 
of  wafer,  so  that  it  had  to  dribble  through  higher  up 
— somewhere.  Tlmt's  how  the  face  of  the  rock  gets 
wet." 

It  took  him  another  month  to  find  a  vulnerable 
spot.  The  deposit  of  ages,  assisted  by  the  lava,  had 
formed  a  cement  almost  as  solid  as  the  Rocks  them- 
selves, but  Hervey  knew  that  the  earthquake  must 
have  opened  a  crack  through  which  the  patient,  per- 
sistent water  had  worn  its  way  drop  by  drop  in  search 
of  its  old  channel.  In  the  course  of  many  more  ages 
it  might  have  worn  its  way  through  again,  even  if 
not  assisted  by  some  fresh  convulsion  of  Nature.  But 
when  he  became  convinced  of  the  existence  of  the 


96  EXILE 

river  and  of  its  possible  recovery  Hervey's  task  was 
only  begun.  If  he  tapped  the  river,  at  the  spot  which 
was  the  only  one  possible  in  that  encasement  of  rock, 
it  would  pour  down  the  face  of  the  cliff  and  be  quickly 
lost  in  the  shifting  sands  of  the  coast  beyond  Fort 
Bay — a  coast  so  dangerous  that  it  made  its  own  de- 
fences, but  of  no  use  for  docking  ships.  The  engineer 
handled  water  as  a  good  horseman  handles  a  horse — 
for  his  own  purposes,  and  not  its  natural  inclination. 
Guided  by  the  wet  rock  faces  he  judged  the  depth  of 
the  river  from  the  surface,  and  began  to  bore  to  find 
its  distance  from  the  face  of  the  cliff.  This  was  work- 
ing by  faith  rather  than  by  sight,  and  he  bored  four 
or  five  times  before  his  patience  was  rewarded;  but 
to  carry  the  precious  fresh  water  into  the  settlement 
of  Reserve  and  further  on  to  the  telegraph  station 
meant  sinking  a  well  and  erecting  a  pumping  station. 
Hervey  went  home  with  the  river  in  his  pocket,  as  it 
were,  instead  of  oilfields,  and  offered  the  Government 
fresh  water  of  life  and  a  naval  station  from  a  barren 
wilderness.  It  was  then  that  he  learned  the  vitreous 
nature  of  departmental  routine,  which  as  a  geologist 
should  have  interested  him.  He  had  thought  himself 
a  discoverer,  and  that  he  deserved  praise  from  the 
Empire;  but  the  Government  of  the  day  was  not 
pleased.  It  had  sent  Mr.  Hervey  to  find  oil  as  a 
paying  investment,  and  it  did  not  approve  of  young 
men  who  returned  with  schemes  for  a  full-grown 
colony  that  would  mean  undoubted  expenditure  and 
a  doubtful  return  for  the  capital  invested.  If  Exile 
had  not  been  of  strategic  value  Hervey's  boreholes 
might  have  remained  as  a  monument  to  British  im- 
perturbability, but  certain  developments  in  the  trade 


EXILE  97 

of  the  Gulf  brought  the  grinning  Rocks  of  Exile  into 
ominous  public  notice.  The  young  engineer  became 
an  unexpected  authority,  and  went  out  again  with  a 
staff  and  facilities.  Followed  the  waterworks  and 
the  dockyard — though  the  latter  was  not  his  job.  His 
life  work  lay  in  Reserve,  and  his  record  was  the 
group  of  flat-roofed  buildings  that  looked  like  bar- 
racks designed  by  an  Arab  architect.  It  was  not  an 
obvious  result  for  fifteen  years  of  iron  determination 
and  tenacity;  but  the  man's  real  achievement  lay  in 
the  whole  settlement  of  Fort  Exile,  the  indirect  result 
of  a  genius  of  will  power  and  personality. 

"When  I  look  at  the  Fort  and  at  Reserve,  and  at 
the  docks  and  the  garrison,  I  see  Hervey,"  said  Rod- 
ney Haines.  "I  don't  need  to  be  shown  the  water- 
works and  told  how  he  recovered  the  river — he  is 
everywhere.  The  Club  is  Hervey,  and  Government 
House,  and  the  cutting  through  the  Rocks.  They 
all  took  their  life  from  him,  and  are  the  outcome  of 
his  personality." 

"But  I  think  the  waterworks  are  wonderful!"  said 
Barbara,  lifting  shining  eyes  from  the  contemplation 
of  Hervey's  great  cisterns  and  filter-tanks,  out  of 
which  the  water  flowed  into  the  main  reservoir  and 
was  carried  thence  by  pipes  into  Reserve.  The  cen- 
trifugal pumps  were  worked  by  electricity,  and  it  was 
for  the  more  centralised  position  of  his  dynamos  that 
Hervey  had  coveted  Hassan's  business  premises  in 
Reserve.  The  humming  of  the  pumping  engines  and 
their  motors  made  the  waterworks  seem  a  very  vital 
spot  in  the  heart  of  Exile,  and  Barbara  gazed  down 
fascinated  from  the  starting  platform  above  the 
throbbing,  rhythmic  machinery.  "I  love  this — it's  so 


98  EXILE 

alive!"  she  said.  "Those  engines,  and  the  wells,  and 
the  water  are  the  thing  in  itself  after  all — are  they 
not,  Mr.  Haines?" 

"No,  they  are  only  the  result,"  he  answered  ear- 
nestly— too  earnestly  for  her  careless  smile.  "The 
thing  in  itself  is  really  Hervey — it  is  the  power  that 
brings  it  all  to  life  that  really  counts." 

She  shook  her  charming  head.  "I  don't  think  so. 
I  like  results,  not  causes.  When  you  play  the  violin 
it  is  your  music  that  I  enjoy,  not  the  practice  that 
you  went  through  first." 

"But  the  music  is  me!"  he  argued  gently,  with 
his  eager  eyes  on  her  frank  face.  He  so  much  wanted 
her  to  understand  that  his  restless  face  sharpened 
with  the  effort.  It  was  like  teaching  a  child. 

"I'm  afraid  I  can't  follow  that,"  said  Barbara,  with 
a  little  laugh.  "I  must  have  something  definite  that 
I  can  see,  or  hear,  or  touch.  I  mean,  it  would  not 
satisfy  me  to  know  that  you  were  capable  of  playing 
the  violin  if  you  did  not  play  it  to  me." 

"If  the  gift  is  there  it  is  bound  to  find  expression," 
he  said.  "And  the  expression  is  only  the  material- 
ising of  oneself."  Then  his  blue  eyes  grew  almost 
wistful  with  a  look  that  Mrs.  Everard  had  often 
noticed  and  that  had  gone  to  her  heart.  "You  could 
not  like  my  music  without  liking  me,  could  you, 
because  it  is  me?"  he  said  coaxingly. 

Barbara  fixed  her  clear  eyes  on  him  for  a  minute 
as  if  considering  the  case.  There  was  no  shadow  of 
a  thought  in  them,  nothing  but  the  receptiveness  of 
a  child. 

"Of  course  I  like  you!"  she  said  kindly.  "But 
I  should  like  the  music  anyway,  if  any  one  else  had 


EXILE  99 

played  to  me  as  well."  She  walked  on  over  the  bridge 
that  led  from  the  engine-houses  to  the  men's  quarters, 
and  over  Rodney  Haines'  heart  as  well,  quite  uncon- 
scious that  he  had  dropped  behind.  "Mr.  Hervey, 
I  am  so  hungry!"  she  said.  "Do  you  think  I  could 
get  any  halwa  in  the  bazaars,  or  should  I  be  poisoned  ? 
I  like  halwa." 

"Barbara,  you  are  a  dreadful  baby!"  said  Lady 
Stroud,  laughing.  "You  are  always  munching  or  eat- 
ing things  all  day.  My  husband  gave  her  some  halwa 
to  taste,"  she  explained  to  Hervey.  "I  think  it  filthy, 
but  Barbara  takes  to  it  like  a  native." 

"It's  sweet,"  said  Barbara  serenely.  "And  it's  only 
like  rather  bad  apple  paste." 

"I  can  give  you  something  better  than  halwa,"  said 
Hervey  with  the  indulgence  he  showed  to  animals  or 
children.  "I  ordered  tea  to  be  ready  at  my  house,  in 
case  you  and  Lady  Stroud  would  like  some." 

"Oh,  how  joyful!"  said  the  girl,  strolling  along  by 
his  side  as  they  made  their  way  back  to  the  car. 
"Have  you  a  house  in  Reserve?  I  didn't  know.  Do 
you  live  here  much?  I  thought  every  one  lived  in 
the  Fort." 

"I  have  an  old  Arab  house,  adapted  to  my  needs. 
But  I  don't  live  here  much — I  only  put  up  in  Reserve 
when  I  am  wanted  on  the  spot.  It  is  too  hot  to  be 
pleasant  in  the  town  as  a  general  rule." 

She  thought  how  nice  he  was,  and  how  simple, 
though  he  was  so  clever  and  had  done  such  wonderful 
things.  Rodney  Haines'  constant  appeal  to  her  un- 
awakened  mind  flattered  her,  and  yet  at  the  same  time 
gave  her  the  feeling  of  a  child  listening  to  longer 
words  than  it  understands.  Hervey  had  not  said 


ioo  EXILE 

anything  that  was  at  all  tiresome,  in  spite  of  being 
such  an  important  person.  But  then  Hervey  was  not 
yearning  for  a  new  intelligence  to  dawn  in  her  kind, 
candid  eyes  and  answer  him  soul  to  soul.  She  was 
to  Hervey  a  pleasant  girl  who  even  liked  halwa  and 
would  enjoy  the  tea  he  had  provided.  He  wanted 
no  more  of  her,  if  she  had  but  known. 

"It  is  such  a  relief  to  feel  that  one  of  those  houses 
is  clean!"  said  Lady  Stroud  as  the  motor  set  them 
down  at  a  great  carved  door  in  the  heart  of  the  town. 
"How  did  you  manage  it,  Mr.  Hervey?  I  had  to  call 
on  Al  Sitt  Indahu  Hassan  the  other  day,  and  the 
house  is  so  stuffy,  and  I'm  sure  they  never  beat  the 
dust  out  of  the  cushions !" 

"It  took  a  good  month  to  get  it  sanitary,"  said 
Hervey,  laughing.  "I  took  it  over  from  three  families 
who  had  all  camped  here  at  once — poorer  class  Arabs, 
who  lived  with  their  goats  and  hens  and  cats  all 
together,  to  say  nothing  of  the  babies." 

"Disgusting!  I  have  never  been  in  the  poorer 
quarters;  I  am  not  allowed,  as  the  Governor's  wife. 
But  Mrs.  Everard  goes  everywhere  with  the  Mission 
sisters,  and  I  believe  they  give  her  the  most  dreadful 
things  to  eat  and  drink." 

"Worse  than  halwa  ?"  said  Barbara  gaily. 

"I  did  not  know  that  Mrs.  Everard  went  in  for 
mission  work,"  said  Hervey  in  an  indescribable  tone. 
Its  venom  was  so  subtle  that  Lady  Stroud  uncon- 
sciously began  to  apologise. 

"I  daresay  they  are  a  farce;  I  don't  believe  any 
Mahomedan  ever  was  converted  to  Christianity.  But 
I  believe  Mrs.  Everard  only  goes  because  she  is  inter- 
ested in  Arab  life." 


EXILE  101 

"How  beautiful  she  is!"  said  Barbara  almost  fer- 
vently. For  the  first  time  her  eyes  grew  dreamy,  and 
something  that  was  almost  like  a  shy  devotion  altered 
her  careless  face.  "I  looked  at  her  across  the  table 
last  night,  and  I — I  wanted  to  kiss  her!  There  is 
something  so  wonderful  in  the  lift  of  her  upper  lip." 

"Why,  Barbara!"  Lady  Stroud  laughed  and  the 
men  smiled.  The  shadow  on  Haines'  face  vanished 
again,  and  he  turned  to  the  girl  quickly  as  if  pleased. 

"I  wonder  if  Mrs.  Everard  for  one  moment  guessed 
what  was  passing  in  your  mind  ?"  he  said.  "I  thought 
she  was  looking  rather  depressed — ill — something." 

"I  am  quite  sure  she  never  thought  of  Barbara  or 
any  one  else  kissing  her,"  said  Lady  Stroud  positively. 
"I  don't  believe  any  one  ever  would,  unless  it  were 
her  husband." 

"It  seems  unlikely,"  said  Hervey,  with  the  same 
quality  in  his  tone  that  had  cheapened  the  mission 
work. 

"Of  course,  one  wouldn't  do  it,"  said  Barbara, 
laughing  and  colouring,  as  if  rather  shocked.  "But 
I  should  always  want  to." 

"She  has  a  beautiful  mouth,"  said  Haines  kindly. 
"The  upper  lip  is  very  short  and  finely  cut,  as  Miss 
Play  fair  says.  But  she  is  so  lifeless,  or  quiet,  that 
she  gives  me  an  unhappy  feeling." 

"She  can  be  awfully  kind!"  said  Merryn  unexpect- 
edly. It  was  almost  the  first  remark  he  had  volun- 
teered, and  he  turned  rather  pink  as  he  said  it.  But 
after  all,  he  had  his  reward.  Barbara's  eyes  met  his 
with  the  sudden  appreciation  and  understanding  that 
Haines  had  looked  for  in  vain. 

"Let  us  grant  Mrs.  Everard  all  the  virtues.     I  am 


102  EXILE 

• 

glad  she  is  not  here  to  demonstrate  them,  however," 
said  Hervey  coolly.  "The  presence  of  a  goddess  or 
an  angel  is  apt  to  have  a  paralysing  effect  upon  con- 
versation. One  can  only  pray  or  sing  hymns  in  their 
presence." 

"I  was  going  to  put  you  next  to  her  at  dinner  last 
night,"  said  Lady  Stroud  mischievously.  "See  what 
you  escaped  by  not  dining!  You  could  not  have 
prayed,  and  it  would  have  interrupted  the  courses  to 
sing  hymns." 

"I  always  thought  she  talked  rather  well,  if  she 
did  get  interested  in  a  conversation,"  said  Rodney 
Haines  with  his  kindly  smile.  "When  they  first  came 
out  you  used  to  discuss  all  sorts  of  things  with  her, 
Hervey." 

"She  was  just  fresh  from  Europe,  and  I  read  her 
like  the  weekly  papers,"  Hervey  admitted.  "That 
kind  of  intelligence  never  lasts  in  Exile.  She  is 
probably  as  dull  as  ditch-water  now;  but  I  can't  say 
I  speak  from  experience,"  he  admitted.  "Here's  your 
tea  at  last,  Miss  Playfair." 

They  had  entered  the  dark  carved  doorway  as  they 
talked,  made  their  way  up  a  flight  of  stairs  lighted 
from  above,  and  emerged  into  a  kind  of  gallery  open- 
ing out  of  a  room  that  was  screened  off  by  carved 
woodwork.  The  gallery  was  really  the  sitting-room, 
and,  like  many  Arab  houses,  it  extended  round  a  well 
that  was'  open  to  the  rainless  skies,  and  made  a  shaft 
of  light  and  air  to  the  whole  house.  From  the  narrow 
space  between  this  well  and  the  wall  opened  small 
cupboards  and  bed  places,  but  the  gallery  was  wider 
between  the  shaft  and  the  carved  screen,  and  it  was 
here  that  chairs  had  been  set  and  Lady  Stroud  and 


EXILE  103 

Barbara  sat  down.  A  further  staircase  led  up  on  to 
the  roof,  where  the  women's  quarters  had  been,  and 
where  Hervey  said  he  slept  when  in  Reserve.  The 
Arab  servants  had  brought  tea  up  from  the  kitchens, 
which  were  on  the  ground  floor. 

"You  could  have  sat  on  a  pile  of  cushions  if  it 
would  increase  the  Arabian  atmosphere,  Miss  Play- 
fair,"  said  Hervey  as  he  handed  her  the  delicious 
cakes  and  scones  that  his  Arab  cook  had  learned  to 
make  "after  long  grief  and  pain." 

"Oh,  why  didn't  I  think  of  it !"  said  Barbara,  laugh- 
ing. "Only  I  should  be  sure  to  spill  my  tea." 

Haines  had  sprung  to  a  small  couch  against  the 
wall,  and  was  divesting  it  of  cushions  for  her,  his 
action  so  light  and  boyish  that  Hervey  appeared 
ponderous  beside  him  when  he  walked  into  the  room 
beyond,  and  returned  laden  with  more  cushions  which 
he  flung  at  the  girl's  feet.  Haines  and  she  together 
arranged  them  in  a  pile,  and  then  with  a  little  air  of 
including  him,  Barbara  handed  her  cup  to  Merryn 
while  she  slowly  lowered  herself  on  to  the  cushions 
and  sat  with  her  feet  crossed  under  her.  It  seemed 
a  perquisite  of  Mr.  Merryn's  position  that  people 
always  gave  him  something  to  hold  or  to  carry  as 
consolation  for  not  including  him  further. 

"My  legs  are  too  long!"  Barbara  said,  looking  up 
at  Haines  with  laughing  eyes.  "Are  all  Arabs  short- 
legged  people?" 

"They  don't  wear  modern  skirts!"  said  the  Colonial 
Secretary  teasingly  as  he  stooped  and  drew  the  linen 
skirt  over  the  tip  of  a  white  canvas  shoe.  There 
was  something  almost  reverential  in  the  action,  as  he 
might  have  touched  a  shrine. 


104  EXILE 

"I  think  one  wants  to  be  dressed  for  the  part," 
said  Lady  Stroud.  "You  look  far  more  European 
sitting  on  the  floor,  Babs,  than  you  did  on  a  chair." 

It  was  one  of  Lady  Stroud's  most  lovable  charac- 
teristics that  she  never  suggested  that  people  were 
doing  improper  things.  If  her  niece  liked  to  sit  on  a 
pile  of  cushions  in  Hervey's  house  she  treated  it  as 
part  of  the  entertainment,  and  did  not  throw  the 
shadow  of  the  Governor's  lady  over  the  laughing 
scene.  Barbara  ate  her  tea  on  her  improvised  seat, 
waited  on  by  Rodney  Haines  and  the  silent  Merryn, 
and  Lady  Stroud  talked  to  her  host.  She  did  not 
know  that  Hervey's  keen,  sleepy  eyes  were  quite  as 
cognisant  of  the  faces  of  all  three  as  her  own. 

"Haines  has  got  it  badly,"  thought  the  Govern- 
ment engineer,  without  hesitating  over  a  suspicion 
that  was  only  just  beginning  to  make  Lady  Stroud 
uneasy.  "He's  simply  leaping  into  love  with  every 
ordinary  thing  that  girl  says  or  does.  It's  the  first 
time  for  him,  and  he's  going  to  be  very  sick  before 
he's  through."  Then  it  occurred  to  him  that  the 
education  of  being  in  love  was  a  process  that  com- 
pleted the  artist  in  man,  and  he  was  ruthlessly 
pleased  because  there  had  always  been  one  thing  want- 
ing in  Haines'  music — a  vague  seeking,  a  falling  short, 
that  Hervey  had  felt.  It  lacked  inspiration  for  all  its 
perfection,  and  this  horrible  thing  that  was  going  to 
happen  to  him  might  prove  the  magic  touch  needful 
to  complete  it.  Hervey  was  perfectly  aware  that  to  a 
nature  like  Rodney  Haines'  there  might  be  much 
ecstasy  in  store  and  infinite  pain.  He  vaguely  pitied 
the  fellow,  but  for  himself  he  hoped  that  it  might 
improve  his  music.  Hervey  possessed  the  cold-blooded 


EXILE  105 

fervour  of  the  critic  untrammelled  by  any  experience 
in  the  ordeal  awaiting  Haines. 

After  tea  they  went  up  on  the  roof  to  show  Barbara 
where  the  women  mostly  lived  in  Arab  households. 
It  was  a  large,  flat  space,  surrounded  by  little  walls 
some  five  or  six  feet  high,  and  open  to  the  sky.  It  was 
impossible  to  see  down  into  the  streets  save  through 
the  narrowest  slits  in  the  walls,  carefully  grated  in; 
and  this  was  all  the  means  the  Mahomedan  ladies  had 
of  observing  the  world  outside  their  own  homes.  Yet 
nothing  happened  within  their  sphere  of  vision  that 
escaped  them,  and  for  rumours  further  off  they  had 
an  unfailing  source  of  supply  in  their  household 
servants. 

"What  a  dreadful,  shut-in  life!"  said  Barbara  with 
a  shudder,  bending  her  tall  head  to  one  of  the  little 
eyelet  holes  and  peering  through.  "How  can  they 
bear  it?  Has  there  never  been  a  revolt  of  women 
amongst  the  Arabs?" 

"My  dear,  they  like  it !"  said  Lady  Stroud,  laughing. 
"They  are  the  goods  and  chattels  of  one  fat,  turbaned 
man  who  boxes  them  up  here  with  some  henna  to  put 
on  their  nails,  and  some  gold  tinsel  to  make  em- 
broidery, and  that  queer  powder  that  scents  their 
clothes,  and  they  are  as  pleased  as  Punch.  Revolt! 
No — the  more  they  are  shut  up  the  more  they  give 
themselves  airs." 

"It  must  be  intolerable!"  said  the  English  girl,  with 
her  head  flung  back  to  look  at  the  free  sky  overhead. 

"They  are  in  love  with  the  master  of  the  house,  you 
see!"  Haines  reminded  her. 

"They  can't  all  be  in  love  with  him." 

Haines  laughed.     "A  rich  Arab  has  no  more  than 


io6  EXILE 

four  wives,  and  the  rest  of  the  females  in  his  women's 
quarters  are  generally  widows  of  his  relations,  or  his 
own  sisters  or  mother.  They  all  live  very  happily 
together." 

"Yes,  but — 'I  couldn't  be  happy  with  any  man  unless 
I  were  free!" 

"That  is  presupposing  that  you  will  always  love 
freedom  better  than  any  man." 

She  looked  at  him  with  puzzled  blue  eyes.  Mr. 
Haines  was  beginning  to  be  clever  again,  and  she  did 
not  understand  her  own  sentences  when  transposed 
like  that. 

"I  should  be  so  bored!"  she  said  quite  frankly. 

The  sudden  darkening  of  Haines'  eyes  might  have 
meant  laughter — or  tragedy.  He  laid  her  cloak  round 
her  shoulders,  for  Lady  Stroud  was  ready  to  go, 
and  the  movement  was  almost  as  if  he  enveloped  or 
protected  her  from  something  worse  than  the  night 
wind. 

"You  shall  not  be  bored,"  he  said  lightly.  "We 
will  all  see  to  it  that  you  have  the  whole  world  for 
your  playground,  and  no  single  Arab  shall  shut  you 
up  on  the  roof!" 

Barbara  paused  for  a  minute  to  allow  Lady  Stroud 
to  get  into  the  motor  first.  The  dust  lay  thick  upon 
the  outside  of  the  car,  as  it  always  did  in  Exile  after 
a  few  miles,  and  as  the  girl  put  her  foot  on  the  step 
Lieutenant  Merryn  leaned  forward  and  placed  his 
hand  over  the  guard  to  save  her  white  skirt.  The 
little  courtesy  must  have  made  him  very  dirty,  since 
he  was  not  wearing  gloves,  and  he  was  an  instinctively 
clean  young  man ;  but  perhaps  the  dust  on  his  fingers 
in  Miss  Play  fair's  service  was  as  much  a  consolation 


EXILE  107 

as  holding  her  tea-cup.  He  said  nothing,  but  took 
his  seat  last  in  the  car,  and  they  drove  away,  Haines 
still  talking  to  Barbara.  She  had  not  even  been  aware 
of  the  saving  of  her  skirt  from  the  dust. 

Richmond  Hervey  was  standing  in  his  own  door- 
way to  watch  them  depart,  and  was  an  appreciative 
witness.  He  flung  up  his  square  shaven  chin,  and 
laughed  with  genuine  humour  as  he  went  to  his  own 
car,  which  was  waiting  behind  the  Governor's. 
Merryn's  little  unrequited  service  struck  him  as  ex- 
tremely ironical  and  rather  suggestive.  Why  should 
a  man  take  the  trouble  to  keep  a  woman's  skirts  clean 
if  she  did  not  do  so  for  herself?  And  she  had  never 
even  thanked  him! 

"Poor  devil!"  said  Hervey  grimly.  "And  that's 
part  of  his  honorary  duties.  A.D.C.  ought  to  stand 
for  'A  Damnable  Commission.' ' 

He  had  enjoyed  the  afternoon,  and  the  presence 
of  two  women  whom  he  could  honestly  like  pleased 
him  in  his  own  house.  Lady  Stroud  was  deservedly 
popular  in  Exile;  Barbara  Playfair  had  the  effect  on 
men  of  a  clean  wind,  or  a  mass  of  garden  flowers,  or 
the  upraised  face  of  a  child, — even  on  Hervey  she 
brought  a  quieting  influence  as  of  something  rather 
happy  that  had  happened  near  him,  though  not  be- 
longing to  his  own  life.  He  wondered,  if  he  had  had 
a  young  sister,  whether  he  could  have  borne  to  see 
her  in  Exile,  whether  he  could  have  guarded  her 
enough;  for,  like  all  men  who  have  been  convention- 
ally immoral,  he  was  horribly  afraid  of  such  evil  com- 
ing near  his  own  womenkind.  Physical  things  had 
grown  to  have  an  exaggerated  value  to  him,  so  that 
he  could  not  realise  that  to  women  like  Lady  Stroud 


108  EXILE 

or  girls  like  Barbara  they  hardly  existed  on  the  level 
of  everyday.  It  needed  the  shock  of  a  tragedy  to 
force  the  question  of  sex  upon  their  consciousness, 
and  their  indifference  was  their  safeguard.  Hervey 
would  almost  have  isolated  a  girl  on  the  roof  in  the 
Arab  fashion  against  which  Barbara  had  protested, 
because  his  own  deeds  had  made  mankind  a  menace, 
though  he  knew  that  personally  he  would  have  faced 
death  rather  than  allow  a  breath  of  harm  to  touch 
such  a  girl.  And  then  suddenly  in  his  thoughts  he 
saw  Lieutenant  Merryn's  action  in  another  light — the 
strong,  clean  hand  shielding  the  girl's  white  skirts 
from  the  dust  of  the  car.  That  sort  of  thing  was 
not  done  for  a  reward,  though  she  had  not  thanked 
him. 


CHAPTER   VI 

"Wife  of  my  foe  thus  pleading  before  me, 

There  seemed  no  wrong; 

With  my  mad  passions  that  stifled  and  tore  me, 
Who  could  be  strong?" 

DORA  SIGUSON  SHORTER. 

r  I  AHE  Government  engineer  got  into  the  driver's 
seat  of  his  car  and  took  her  gently  out  into  the 
busy  streets  of  the  town.  It  was  growing  dusk,  and 
he  found  it  necessary  to  sound  the  warning  note  of 
his  horn  to  clear  the  parti-coloured  crowd  out  of  his 
way,  just  as  Mrs.  Everard's  driver  had  rung  his  silver 
bells.  Hervey  was  going  down  to  the  Chief  Justice's 
bungalow  now,  to  keep  his  appointment  with  Mrs. 
Everard.  He  drove  slowly — partly  because  he  did 
not  want  to  overtake  the  Government  House  party  in 
front  and  apprise  them  of  where  he  was  going,  partly 
because  he  wanted  time  to  arrange  his  thoughts  and 
get  his  statements  against  Everard  clearly  in  his  mind. 
He  shook  off  the  kinder  influence  of  the  past  hour  and 
hardened  his  heart,  for  he  was  quite  certain  that  Mrs. 
Everard  had  been  in  ignorance  of  her  husband's  mis- 
handling of  justice,  and  if  she  were  still  in  ignorance 
he  meant  to  spare  her  no  detail.  He  could  not  himself 
have  told  why  a  savage  desire  to  crush  and  wound  this 
particular  woman  had  taken  possession  of  him,  but 
he  dimly  realised  that  it  had  waited  in  the  background 
of  his  mind  for  many  a  long  day,  and  that  he  rejoiced 

IOQ 


no  EXILE 

when  the  opportunity  was  put  into  his  hands.  He 
remembered  her  composed  white  face  last  night  when 
she  had  asked  for  the  interview,  and  the  dazed  grief 
in  her  eyes.  Those  eyes  were  the  only  thing  that 
betrayed  her,  for  her  face  was  like  a  mask,  even  the 
beautiful  curved  lips  being  under  complete  control. 
She  was  a  curious  woman;  he  wondered  how  she 
would  take  it — whether  the  stabs  of  the  accusations 
he  could  make  would  bring  any  convulsion  of  her 
calm,  whether  he  could  draw  blood  and  make  her 
wince.  There  was  a  certain  horrible  excitement  in  the 
mere  anticipation,  and  he  dwelt  upon  it  with  loath- 
some fascination.  He  did  not  mean  to  spare  her  one 
revolting  fact — she  had  never  spared  him  the  gall  of 
her  silent  aloofness  and  superiority,  though  she  did 
not  know  it.  He  thought  it  very  likely  that  she  did 
not  know  it,  and  had  merely  passed  him  by  as  some- 
thing immaterial  and  undesirable;  but  he  hated  her 
none  the  less. 

By  the  time  Hervey's  car  rounded  the  foot  of  the 
Rocks  and  turned  up  the  ascent  to  the  Everards' 
bungalow  the  lights  were  coming  out  in  Exile.  They 
shone  like  pale  stars  here  and  there  amongst  the  lower 
slopes  of  the  Rocks,  with  a  galaxy  for  the  garrison, 
and  an  electric  crown  for  Government  House.  The 
"Luna"  purred  with  a  deep  vibration  up  the  hill,  and 
Mrs.  Everard  heard  it  coming  through  the  open 
windows  of  the  drawing-room.  When  Hervey  was 
announced  she  was  sitting  at  the  writing-table  with 
her  head  leaning  on  her  hand,  a  pile  of  written  chits 
beside  her,  and  her  thoughtful  eyes  reading  a  list  of 
engagements  propped  up  beside  the  inkstand.  The 
lights  were  up  in  the  dining-room  beyond  the  pillars, 


EXILE  in 

but  only  one  lamp  was  turned  on  over  Mrs.  Everard's 
head  to  enable  her  to  see.  As  Hervey  entered  he 
noticed  the  light  on  the  dull  gold  of  her  hair  and  the 
curve  of  her  neck  and  shoulders.  She  was  wearing  a 
dark  transparent  gown,  and  had  already  dressed  for 
dinner,  though  it  was  not  much  after  six. 

"I  am  afraid  I  am  late,"  he  said  with  rigid  polite- 
ness. "I  was  showing  Lady  Stroud  and  her  niece 
over  the  waterworks,  and  they  stayed  to  tea  at  my 
house  in  Reserve.  I  came  straight  down  when  they 
left." 

"It  does  not  matter,"  she  answered  in  a  perfectly 
level  voice.  "I  dressed  early,  to  feel  myself  free  to 
talk  to  you  when  you  should  arrive.  Won't  you  sit — 
there?"  She  made  a  motion  to  the  chair  nearest  the 
writing  table — a  polished  wood  chair  substantially 
made,  for  Hervey's  great  frame  demanded  something 
more  than  basket-work  furniture — and  he  sat  down. 
As  he  did  so  she  was  distracted  by  a  horrible  feeling 
of  still  hearing  the  purring  hum  of  his  car  coming 
up  the  hill,  and  realised  that  she  had  sat  and  listened 
for  it  in  such  tension  that  the  sound  at  last  had  been 
burnt  in  on  her  brain.  She  wondered  how  long,  after 
he  was  gone, — after  it  was  all  over, — she  should  still 
hear  that  motor  coming  up  the  hill,  and  turning  into 
the  compound.  .  .  . 

Hervey  was  looking  at  her  with  his  critical,  level- 
lidded  eyes.  He  speculated  whether  anything  would 
ever  disturb  that  quiet  face,  the  lowered  screen  of 
thick  lashes  over  the  eyes,  the  short  curve  of  the 
superb  upper  lip;  he  laid  a  bet  with  himself  that  if  he 
could  take  her  pulse  it  would  not  be  hurrying  one 
jot — yet. 


112  EXILE 

"My  business  with  you  to-night  is  purely — business, 
Mr.  Hervey,"  said  Mrs.  Everard  deliberately.  She 
was  looking  straight  in  front  of  her,  and  did  not  turn 
her  serious  eyes  in  his  direction  as  she  spoke,  while 
her  head  still  rested  on  her  hand  as  before,  the  chin 
supported  in  her  palm.  "You  hold  a  certain  letter 
of  my  husband's,  which  was  written — in  error." 

"The  Chief  Justice  paid  me  the  unmerited  compli- 
ment of  judging  me  by  his  own  standards!"  he  said 
with  a  kind  of  ghastly  irony. 

She  bent  her  head  a  little,  as  if  in  tired  assent.  "It 
was  an  error,"  she  repeated.  "He  admits  that.  May 
I  ask,  before  I  go  further,  if  you  have  answered  the 
letter?" 

"No,"  he  said  curtly.  "It  was  a  letter  which  will 
answer  itself,  in  time." 

"Have  you  destroyed  it?" 

"I  am  sorry  you  think  me  a  fool,  Mrs.  Everard !" 

There  was  a  pause  after  the  harsh  sarcasm.  Then 
he  spoke  in  his  turn. 

"Do  you  know  what  was  in  that  letter?" 

"No,  I  have  not  read  it,"  she  said  patiently.  She 
had  never  once  looked  at  him,  and  yet  she  knew  every 
ugly  alteration  in  his  face — anger,  contempt,  disbelief 
in  her,  vindictive  revenge,  she  could  have  counted 
them  over  as  they  altered  the  deep  lines  round  his 
mouth  and  eyes. 

"Your  husband  asked  me  to  join  him  in  a  syndi- 
cate to  control  and  monopolise  the  silk  trade,"  said 
Hervey  deliberately.  "As  you  know,  it  is  illegal  for 
Government  officials  to  enter  into  large  trading  trans- 
actions here,  more  especially  with  the  Arabs  in  Exile. 
Ali  Hassan  was  one  of  the  syndicate — the  principal 


EXILE  113 

member,  I  understand;  and  the  Chief  Justice  and  I 
are  both  Government  officials.  Mr.  Everard  thought 
his  proposition  balanced,  however,  by  the  fact  that  I 
was  already  in  secret  a  director  of  Moses,  Kalif  &  Co., 
the  Jewish  agents.  In  this  he  had  been  misinformed, 
but  he  was  so  sure  of  it  that  he  used  it  as  a  threat 
to  ensure  my  consent.  If  I  did  not  agree  to  join  the 
silk  combine  he  was  going  to  expose  my  connection 
with  the  banking  agency  and  their  money-lending 
methods,  with  which  he  was  quite  conversant.  I  wish 
you  to  understand  me  thoroughly,  Mrs.  Everard!" 

"I  understand  you  thoroughly!" 

"Perhaps  it  is  necessary  to  inform  you  that  I  never 
had  any  connection  with  any  Arab  or  Jewish  firms  in 
Exile.  As  a  rule  it  would  be  quite  unnecessary  to  state 
that  of  any  decent  Englishman,  but  your  husband 
having  explained  his  own  standard  to  me,  I  think  it 
better  to  inform  you." 

"Yes,"  she  said  simply. 

For  a  minute  he  hesitated.  If  he  had  not  hated  her 
he  thought  he  would  have  cynically  admired  her  life- 
less composure  and  the  perfectly  modulated  voice.  It 
was  impossible  to  tell  what  she  thought  or  felt,  or 
how  much  she  acquiesced  in  Everard's  blackguardism. 
If  she  were  his  accomplice  throughout  she  was  calm 
through  preknowledge  of  what  he  had  to  say;  and 
yet  somehow  he  guessed  that  she  had  been  ignorant, 
until  this  minute,  of  all  that  had  taken  place.  Her 
composure  was  a  thing  almost  beyond  his  imagination 
for  a  woman  to  assume. 

"In  order  that  I  might  appreciate  all  the  advantages 
of  the  silk  combine,  however,  the  Chief  Justice  took 
me  into  his  confidence  with  a  frankness  that  shows 


1 14  EXILE 

how  entirely  he  believed  that  I  was  in  his  power. 
He  told  me  in  that  letter  which  he  sent  'in  error' 
that  the  whole  of  the  trade  was  practically  in  our 
hands,  or  would  be.  As  he  had  removed  Lestoc, 
Arabi,  and  Raschid  Taima,  our  most  serious  rivals, 
so  he  would  get  rid  of  Azopardi  &  Co.,  the  only  firm 
of  importance  left.  There  was  a  warrant  out  against 
them  already  for  contempt  of  court — the  same  dodge 
he  played  on  Arabi." 

She  interrupted  him  for  the  first  time.  "Wait  a 
moihent — I  do  not  understand.  The  case  of  Arabi 
was  for  libel " 

"Pardon  me,  Mrs.  Everard,  it  was  for  contempt  of 
court,  and  was  managed  in  this  wise.  When  Lestoc 
was  made  a  bankrupt  on  the  cabled  word  of  a  man  in 
Bombay,  public  opinion  was  pretty  freely  expressed, 
but  as  the  officials  are  not  in  the  silk  trade  Mr.  Everard 
ignored  it.  Jacobs,  however,  went  into  Arabi's  office 
after  the  conviction  and  said  to  him,  'What  do  you 
think  of  this  sentence  of  the  Chief  Justice?  Rather 
severe,  isn't  it?'  Arabi,  who  was  a  friend  of  Lestoc's, 
flamed  up  into  indignation  and  denounced  the  Chief 
Justice  as  a  scoundrel.  Jacobs  had  his  clerk  with  him 
as  a  witness.  'That's  enough/  he  said.  'I'm  going 
over  to  the  court-house  to  lay  information  against  you. 
It's  contempt  of  court.'  He  went  over  to  the  court- 
house, where  Mr.  Everard  awaited  him.  It  was  a 
planned  thing.  Arabi  was  in  gaol  next  week  and  fined 
a  thousand  rupees — 'just  at  a  time  when  his  small 
business  happened  to  be  in  a  crucial  condition,  as  the 
'silk  combine'  knew.  Very  simple,  isn't  it,  Mrs. 
Everard?" 

"Go  on." 


EXILE  115 

"You  will  see  that  Mr.  Everard  had  reason  to  say 
that  he  could,  or  would,  remove  all  rivals  out  of  our 
way.  He  had  already  done  so  in  various  cases.  That 
public  opinion  which  I  mentioned,  however,  was  a 
spoke  in  the  wheel  of  trade  success,  and  to  give  the 
syndicate  a  good  basis  he  paid  me  the  compliment  of 
thinking  that  there  was  no  name  so  good  as  mine  to 
have  on  the  directorate.  That  is  the  gist  of  his  letter, 
Mrs.  Everard.  It  is  all  stated  with  that  lucidity  and 
legal  plainness  for  which  Mr.  Everard  is  justly 
notorious." 

For  a  minute  there  was  silence.  Mrs.  Everard 
seemed  to  be  taking  in  his  statement.  Then  she  turned 
to  him  for  the  first  time,  and  with  a  little  odd  thrill 
of  triumph  he  saw  that  there  was  an  unusual  stain 
of  colour  in  her  face,  as  if  some  one  had  flicked  the 
angry  blood  into  it  under  the  torture  of  a  whip.  Her 
eyes  looked  almost  wine-coloured  as  she  turned  them 
on  him,  but  there  was  not  the  least  quiver  in  her  face 
except  for  a  little  pulse  that  seemed  to  be  beating  in 
her  cheek.  He  watched  it  with  a  very  cruelty  of 
pleasure. 

"And  what  price  do  you  put  upon  the  letter?"  she 
said  steadily.  "I  am  empowered  to  offer  you  any- 
thing, without  hesitation.  There  is  a  site,  I  think, 
you  want  in  Reserve  for  the  power  station.  Would 
that  count?" 

For  a  minute  he  was  so  furious  with  anger  that  he 
could  not  answer  her.  That  having  failed  in  the  bribe 
of  great  wealth — for  the  silk  combine  was  a  mag- 
nificent trust  scheme — Everard  should  dare  to  offer 
him  another  bribe,  or  unlimited  bribery,  struck  him  as 
intolerable.  The  Chief  Justice  was  judging  him  still 


n6  EXILE 

by  himself,  and  the  insult  reached  Hervey  like  a  blow 
between  the  eyes.  He  wanted  to  strike  back  at  the 
man,  brutally  and  physically,  but  Everard  was  not 
here — he  was  skulking  behind  this  impassive  figure 
of  his  wife  empowered  to  offer  any  price  to  the  man 
who  thought  himself  above  prices.  The  only  way  of 
striking  at  the  husband  was  through  the  wife,  and  he 
felt  the  rush  of  his  passion  in  all  his  veins  as  he  set 
his  will  to  crush  them  both  in  one  fierce  sweep  of 
contempt  and  scorn.  The  woman's  beautiful,  still  face 
maddened  him  too.  Everard  was  a  cur — he  would 
have  cringed.  But  here  was  something  opposing  him 
almost  worthy  of  the  blow  he  meant  to  deal. 

He  rose  deliberately  from  his  chair,  and  leaned  his 
hand  on  the  writing-table,  bending  a  little  towards 
Claudia  Everard  with  his  stone-grey  eyes  on  her 
face. 

"The  site  for  the  power  station  is  not  bribe  enough, 
Mrs.  Everard !"  he  said  with  a  slow  smile.  His  voice 
was  as  cold  and  steady  as  her  own. 

"Is  there  anything  we  can  offer?"  She  ranged 
herself  unconsciously  on  her  husband's  side.  "You 
can  name  your  price,  Mr.  Hervey." 

"You  are  empowered  to  offer — anything,  Mrs. 
Everard?" 

She  bent  her  head  almost  breathlessly. 

"Even — yourself  ?" 

In  the  silence  that  followed  the  word  the  little  pulse 
in  her  cheek  seemed  to  beat  almost  audibly.  Her  eyes 
had  shifted  from  his  when  he  rose  and  stood  over  her, 
but  she  had  not  shrunk.  The  colour  in  her  face,  how- 
ever, faded  and  left  her  as  white  as  she  usually  was, 
and  her  curved  lips  looked  the  redder  by  contrast. 


EXILE  117 

"I  am  empowered  to  offer  anything,"  she  repeated 
tonelessly  after  a  full  minute;  and  even  as  she  spoke 
she  remembered  the  panic  terror  in  her  husband's 
face  as  he  had  hurled  the  words  at  her.  Had  he 
thought  of  this  meaning,  too? 

"The  decision,  however,  rests  with  you,"  Hervey 
said  with  the  same  mockery  of  courtesy.  "In  your 
gift  you  have  the  only  bribe  I  will  take." 

"That — is  your  ultimatum?" 

"Yes." 

She  hesitated,  and  then  to  his  amazement  spoke  as 
collectedly  as  if  discussing  a  mere  business  proposition. 
Would  he  ever  understand  this  woman?  Was  she  a 
great  criminal,  or  a  martyr,  or  something  of  a 
genius  ? 

"You  forget,"  she  said  slowly,  "that  even  if  I  con- 
ceded that  bribe,  that  it  would  be  impossible  for  me 

For  the  first  time  her  voice  died  in  her  throat,  but 
her  face  was  as  set  as  marble. 

"The  details  are  not  so  very  difficult,"  he  said  with 
a  cynical  shrug,  and  even  while  he  was  speaking  he 
was  surprised  at  the  ease  with  which  he  sketched  a 
plan  that  he  had  never  dreamed  of  until  the  moment 
when  he  looked  for  an  insult.  "There  is  my  bungalow 
in  the  desert,  and  Hassan's  Half-way  House  opposite. 
What  more  natural  than  that  you  should  go  out  to 
Half-way  House  for  change  of  air — or  you  can  go 
to  meet  your  husband  on  his  return  from  Health  if 
you  like,  and  by  some  alteration  of  his  plans  he  does 
not  arrive!"  His  clean-shaven  lips  showed  the  be- 
traying sneer.  "Hassan's  house  is  only  partly  fur- 
nished— not  always  ready  for  chance  visitors.  Under 


n8  EXILE 

the  circumstances  you  would,  of  course,  come  to  me, 
and — my  hospitality  is  at  your  service!" 

One  great  shudder  seemed  to  convulse  her  from 
head  to  foot.  She  pushed  back  her  chair  and  rose 
abruptly,  but  even  now  she  did  not  falter,  though  she 
did  not  look  him  in  the  face. 

"Yes,  I  see,"  she  said  quietly.  Then,  "That  is  the 
only  price  you  will  take  for  the  letter?" 

"That  is  the  only  price."  The  finality  of  his  tone 
was  intentionally  brutal. 

She  moved  back  from  him  a  pace,  that  was  all. 
Her  eyes  had  never  met  his  again  since  he  made  his 
proposition,  and  she  turned  from  him  now  as  if  the 
subject  were  ended — for  the  time. 

"I  cannot  answer  you  on  the  instant.  Will  you 
give  me  twenty-four  hours?" 

"I  am  going  cruising  with  the  Admiral  to-morrow," 
he  said  quietly,  almost  casually.  "I  shall  be  away  a 
week.  You  can  write  your  answer  for  my  return." 

"Where  am  I  to  address  it?"  she  said,  and  there 
seemed  some  difficulty  in  the  words.  He  wondered 
why,  when  her  control  had  been  so  marvellous  up  to 
now. 

"To  my  bungalow  in  the  desert,  please.  I  shall  be 
there  for  some  days  after  my  return,"  he  said  slowly 
and  significantly.  "Good-night,  Mrs.  Everard!" 

He  did  not  offer  her  his  hand.  He  walked  straight 
across  the  drawing-room  and  out  of  the  door,  leaving 
her  standing  by  the  writing-table.  She  lifted  her  eyes 
once  as  he  passed  through  the  doorway,  and  they 
rested  for  a  minute  on  his  shoulders  and  the  back  of 
his  massive  grey  head.  In  the  dead  white  mask  of 
her  face  they  were  alight  and  alive.  His  heavy  foot- 


EXILE  119 

fall  died  out  through  the  echoing  bungalow,  where 
there  were  neither  curtains  nor  draperies  to  deaden 
the  sound;  but  in  her  ears,  much  clearer  than  his 
tread,  was  the  sound  of  his  approaching  motor  as  she 
had  heard  it  coming  up  the  hill,  and  long  after  the 
real  sound  of  it  had  died  away  into  distance,  taking 
him  with  it,  she  still  heard  it  approach  with  a  hum- 
ming purr  that  grew  louder  and  louder  in  her  ears 
until  she  felt  that  it  would  deafen  her  to  every  other 
noise  for  evermore. 


CHAPTER   VII 

"Love  is  for  no  planet  and  no  race. 
The  Summer  of  the  heart  is  late  or  soon, 
The  fever  in  the  blood  is  less  or  more; 
But  while  the  moons  of  time  shall  fill  and  wane, 
While  there  is  earth  below  and  heaven  above, 
Wherever  man  is  true  and  woman  fair, 
Through  all  the  circling  cycles  Love  is  Love!" 

SYDNEY  DOBELL. 

"A  pretty  woman  left  too  much  alone, 

Her  husband  playing  her  the  traitor's  part — 
A  child  misunderstood — a  horse  misused — 

These  wrong  God's  Universe,  and  break  my  heart. 

"The  sin  of  those  who  sit  in  council  seats 

And  bring  red  ruin  on  the  helpless  throng — 
The  market  places  thronged  with  living  girls " 

"DARBARA!"  called  Lady  Stroud,  entering  the 
•*-*  drawing-room  with  an  armful  of  ostrich  feath- 
ers. "Jacobs  has  brought  these  things  for  us  to  choose 
from.  My  dear,  where  did  you  get  that  song?" 

"I  brought  it  out  from  home,  Aunt  Fanny,"  said 
Barbara,  swinging  her  long  body  round  on  the  music 
stool. 

"I  don't  think  it's  very  nice.  I  never  heard  you 
sing  it  before." 

"I  don't  know  it  yet,"  said  Barbara  indifferently. 
"The  third  verse  is  rather  pretty." 

"But,  my  dear,  the  words!  I  can't  think  what  is 

1 20 


EXILE  121 

the  matter  with  modern  songs.  It  isn't  only  on  the 
gramophone,"  she  added,  laughing;  "but  children  like 
you  stand  up  and  sing  the  most  dreadful  things  under 
excuse  of  their  being  set  to  music." 

"I  never  thought  about  the  words,"  said  Barbara, 
opening  her  great  clear  eyes,  as  empty  as  the  blue 
sky  overhead.  "Except  the  third  verse,  and  that's 
about  children  leaving  wild  flowers  to  die  on  the  roads. 
You  know  how  they  pick  them  and  then  throw  them 
away.  I  can  never  bear  to  see  it." 

"Yes,"  said  Lady  Stroud  a  little  doubtfully.  "Well, 
I  think  I  shouldn't  sing  the  second  verse  at  all  if  I 
were  you.  You  haven't  sung  it  to  anybody,  have 
you?"  she  added  a  trifle  anxiously. 

"No."  Barbara  shook  her  charming  head.  "I 
haven't  learnt  it  yet,  and  you  are  all  so  critical !"  She 
left  the  piano  and  came  over  to  the  sofa,  where  Lady 
Stroud  had  deposited  the  feathers.  "Oh,  Aunt  Fanny, 
how  topping!"  she  said,  lifting  the  long  undressed 
plumes  in  her  hand.  Lady  Stroud  motioned  to  a 
native  trader  waiting  between  the  pillars  in  the  dis- 
tance, and  he  came  forward  noiselessly  on  his  bare 
feet  and  stood  looking  from  one  to  the  other  of  the 
English  ladies  with  cunning  eyes.  He  was  an  Arab 
Jew,  with  a  little  scanty  beard  and  aquiline  features, 
but  he  had  something  of  the  Arab  grace  if  more  of  the 
subtilty  of  Judah. 

"Now,  Jacobs,  you  are  to  sell  to  Miss  Playfair  as 
you  would  to  me !"  said  Lady  Stroud  warningly.  She 
was  the  best  bargainer  in  Exile,  and  she  knew  the 
value  of  the  feathers  and  silks  and  curios  as  well  as 
the  dealers.  They  did  not  attempt  to  cheat  Lady 
Stroud,  accepting  her  with  as  much  respect  as  a  fellow 


122  EXILE 

rogue;  but  she  paid  fair  prices  and  expected  the  best 
for  her  money. 

"What  price  are  they?"  she  asked,  lifting  the  long 
white  bunch  of  feathers  that  had  enraptured  Barbara. 
There  were  four  to  the  bunch,  but  when  dressed  they 
would  only  make  two  plumes  of  any  thickness. 

"Twenty-eight  rupees,  ya  siyyidha!"  said  the  Jew 
with  a  smile  amongst  the  wrinkles  of  his  old  face. 
He  smiled  very  suddenly,  and  the  next  moment  the 
seriousness  of  the  Oriental  had  settled  down  on  his 
face  again  and  made  it  almost  sad. 

"Twenty-eight  rupees — that's  about  seventeen  and 
six  each  for  your  two  feathers,  Barbara,"  said  Lady 
Stroud  practically.  "You  would  have  to  give  four  or 
five  pounds  for  such  beauties  at  home.  These  are  not 
joined — they  are  all  one  feather.  Well,  do  you  want 
any?" 

"Oh,  Aunt  Fanny,  I  should  love  them!  And  those 
dear  little  Marabout  tips,  and  the  natural  ostrich!" 

"Don't  ruin  yourself/'  said  her  aunt,  laughing. 
"That's  about  three  pounds'  worth  you  have  chosen 
— rather  less,  because  the  Marabout  are  cheap.  I 
want  some  white  feathers  myself.  Those  are  not  long 
enough,  Jacobs." 

"I  will  send  up  more,  ya  siyyidha.  I  expect  fresh 
feathers  in  to-day." 

"They  come  over  from  Somaliland,"  Lady  Stroud 
explained.  "Very  well,  Jacobs,  send  me  up  a  bunch 
as  good  as  Miss  Playfair's.  Have  you  your  purse, 
Barbara?  Jacobs  has  one  price,  and  I  never  try  to 
beat  him  down  as  I  should  another  man.  You  had 
better  pay  him  now,  or  I  will  lend  you  the  money." 

"No,  Aunt  Fanny,  I'll  pay — wait  a  minute."     She 


EXILE  123 

ran  off  into  her  own  room,  returning  with  the  silver 
netted  bag  and  the  bargain  was  settled.  Lady  Stroud 
had  been  unconsciously  urgent  that  the  purchase  of 
the  feathers  should  be  over  and  done  with  while  the 
Colonial  Secretary  was  absent  on  his  duties.  She  was 
uncomfortably  aware  that  Mr.  Haines  had  a  marked 
tendency  to  pay  for  anything  and  everything  that  her 
niece  admired  and  to  make  her  a  present  of  it.  He 
did  it  so  eagerly  and  gracefully  that  it  was  difficult 
to  scold  him,  and  well  nigh  impossible  for  the  girl  to 
refuse.  As  long  as  it  was  only  little  camel  bells  and  fili- 
gree brooches  it  had  not  much  mattered,  but  when  it 
expanded  into  gold  tissue  and  embroidered  silko  it  ran 
into  a  number  of  rupees  that  Lady  Stroud  could  not 
countenance.  Some  connection  in  her  sub-conscious 
mind  between  her  husband's  deputy  and  Barbara's 
purchases  made  her  say  suddenly,  "I  thought  Mr. 
Haines  was  with  you.  What  has  become  of  him?" 

"Why,  he  had  to  be  in  the  office  this  morning,  Aunt 
Fanny — he  told  you  so  at  breakfast!" 

"Of  course — I  forgot.  And  he  is  lunching  with 
Major  Dalkeith,  who  is  in  command  of  the  Marine 
Light  Infantry  here.  Do  you  remember  when  he  will 
be  back,  Barbara  ?  There  is  that  polo  match  this  after- 
noon; we  must  have  an  escort.  If  he  can't  come  I 
must  send  for  Dr.  Bride." 

"I  think — I  mean  he  said — he  would  be  up  soon 
after  lunch,"  faltered  the  girl,  reddening.  It  was  in- 
evitable that  she  should  redden,  the  Colonial  Secre- 
tary's desire  to  return  to  Government  House  as  long 
as  she  was  in  it  being  too  patent  for  concealment. 
And  Rodney  Haines  was  not  concealing  anything.  He 
had  not  walked  into  love  in  his  sober  senses,  as  men 


124  EXILE 

of  his  age  might  be  supposed  to  do.  He  had  rushed 
into  it  with  a  velocity  that  had  left  nobody  any  breath- 
ing space.  The  Silverside  had  been  gone  for  four 
days,  carrying'  the  Admiral,  his  Flag-Captain  and 
Chief  of  Staff,  the  Flag-Lieutenant,  the  Secretary, 
and  the  Government  engineer  with  her,  and  Mr. 
Haines  had  been  Acting-Governor  during  that  period 
and  in  consequence  in  residence  at  Government  House. 
It  was  one  of  the  vagaries  of  Fate  that  he  was  in 
such  a  position,  for  the  man  who  should  have  been 
Acting-Governor  in  the  Admiral's  absence  was,  strictly 
speaking,  the  senior  military  officer,  who  was  in  com- 
mand of  the  Marine  Artillery.  But  Colonel  Darner 
had  an  unfortunate  taste  for  cocktails  at  the  Club  that 
had  resulted  in  a  bout  of  fever,  and  the  Admiral  with 
great'  relief  had  snatched  at  the  excuse  for  putting 
Rodney  Haines  in  his  place.  It  seems  a  far  cry  from 
Colonel  Darner  and  his  pirate-swizzles  to  the  new  wine 
of  love;  but  the  fact  remains  that  they  were  the  in- 
direct cause  of  hastening  matters  for  the  Colonial 
Secretary.  He  had  had  the  advantage  of  being  under 
the  same  roof  as  Barbara,  of  meeting  her  at  meals, 
of  seeing  how  she  looked  from  the  time  she  got  up  in 
the  morning  to  the  time  she  went  to  bed  at  night,  and 
he  had  gone  headlong  into  that  mysterious  experience 
of  soul  and  body  which  we  call  "being  in  love,"  and 
was  plunging  deeper  and  deeper  with  each  hour  that 
passed. 

It  was  impossible  that  either  Lady  Stroud  or  Bar- 
bara could  be  blind  to  the  state  of  affairs,  though  they 
might  ignore  it  at  present.  Poor  Lady  Stroud  felt 
the  agitation  of  the  whirlwind  that  seemed  to  be  en- 
veloping Government  House  even  though  the  Colonial 


EXILE  125 

Secretary  had  not  made  open  love  to  the  girl — she 
did  him  that  justice. 

"He  is  a  nice  man,"  she  said  to  herself  in  the  midst 
of  her  worry.  "And  of  course  he  is  quite  eligible 
and  satisfactory  as  to  his  family.  But  I  do  wish  it 
had  not  happened  quite  so  soon,  or  when  Jonathan 
was  away?  Only  a  week  in  Exile  and  this  tiresome 
man  on  the  verge  of  a  declaration  to  her,  poor  child. 
If  it  had  happened  a  month  or  so  hence,  now " 

Unfortunately  love  is  a  fever  which  cannot  be  pre- 
dated or  deferred  like  other  engagements.  If  it  is 
never  the  right  time  to  be  ill  it  is  hardly  more  so  to 
fall  in  love.  Even  Rodney  Haines  would  not  himself 
have  chosen  the  suddenness  with  which  his  fate  had 
come  upon  him  had  he  been  asked.  He  had  been 
comfortably  immune  for  thirty-eight  years  of  his  life, 
save  for  burning  his  fingers  at  a  married  woman's 
shrine  when  he  was  assistant  secretary  in  a  minor 
colony,  and  had  been  regarded  as  very  charming  and 
very  hopeless  by  mothers  with  marriageable  daughters. 
He  had  only  been  six  months  in  Exile  when  Barbara 
Playfair  walked  into  the  Club  and  straight  into  his 
heart,  and  he  had  not  been  bound  to  any  woman's 
chariot  wheels  during  that  time.  A  "dear  fellow" 
was  what  they  said  of  him — a  little  baffled  by  his  ready 
courtesy  that  was  almost  devotion  and  his  attentions 
that  were  almost  a  flirtation.  He  was  thought  to  be 
able  to  take  care  of  himself;  he  thought  so  himself 
until  he  found  that  all  his  manhood  yearned  to  one 
slight,  long-limbed  girl  sitting  opposite  him  at  meals 
in  tantalising  suggestion  of  domesticity. 

The  chief  difficulty  in  the  situation  was  Barbara. 


126  EXILE 

Lady  Stroud  had  not  the  least  idea  how  the  girl  was 
herself  taking  the  matter — whether  she  were  attracted 
or  whether  she  were  simply  a  little  flattered.  She 
looked  at  her  now,  with  that  flush  in  her  cheeks  as  she 
gathered  up  the  beautiful  white  feathers  and  buried 
her  face  in  them  with  a  childish  effort  to  disguise  the 
blush.  She  was  nineteen ;  it  struck  Lady  Stroud  with 
a  shock  that  the  Colonial  Secretary  was  exactly  twice 
her  age.  But  then  he  looked  so  young,  and  that  eager 
boyish  air  had  been  so  pronounced  of  late.  Really  at 
times  he  seemed  younger  than  Barbara,  who  could  be 
rather  solemn. 

"You  had  better  put  your  feathers  in  a  tin  case  and 
have  them  sealed  up,"  she  said  as  her  niece  was  carry- 
ing them  off.  "You  can't  get  them  dressed  or  mounted 
out  here." 

Barbara  hesitated,  and  the  blood  deepened  in  her 
face ;  but  she  looked  at  Lady  Stroud  with  young  eyes 
like  pools  of  water.  "I  wanted  to  show  them  to  Mr. 
Haines,"  she  said  bravely.  "He  asked  me  to  show 
him  if  I  bought  anything — • — " 

"Oh,"  said  Lady  Stroud  with  a  feeling  of  being 
nonplussed.  "You  can  show  them  to  him  after 
luncheon  then,  and  my  ayah  shall  pack  them  up  for 
you  later." 

Barbara  nodded  and  turned  away,  the  feathers  in 
her  hand.  As  she  crossed  the  polished  floors  to  her 
own  room  Lady  Stroud  heard  her  humming,  and 
then  suddenly  her  voice  broke  out  into  the  song  she 
had  been  singing: 

"The  market-places  thronged  with  living  girls — 
These  make  the  scheme  of  all  Creation  wrong. 


EXILE  127 

"For  oh  to  see  the  bluebells,  idly  plucked, 

Flung  in  the  roadway  where  the  cattle  trod! — 
I  find  my  Heaven  turned  a  Court  of  law, 
Man  the  defendant,  and  the  plaintiff,  God." 

"She  is  nothing  but  a  baby;  she  has  not  under- 
stood a  word  of  that  hateful  song,"  said  Lady  Stroud, 
exasperated.  "Children  throwing  wild  flowers  away, 
indeed!  I  shall  give  Mr.  Haines  a  hint  to  tell  her 
that  her  voice  is  not  suited  to  the  music.  No,  that's 
not  fair  to  her;  I  shall  tell  her  exactly  what  it  means." 

At  half -past  two  the  Colonial  Secretary  drove  back 
to  Government  House,  and  sprang  out  of  the  car  with 
an  impetuosity  that  suggested  ominous  haste  to  Lady 
Stroud.  He  came  in  with  the  halting  gait  that  ought 
to  have  been  a  limp,  and  brought  his  pathetic,  crippled 
face  with  that  new  radiance  on  it  into  the  sunshine  of 
his  lady's  presence.  Barbara  was  sitting  on  the  arm 
of  the  deep  sofa,  balancing  her  long  body  and  smoking 
a  cigarette  while  she  discussed  the  advisability  of 
going  to  rest  until  a  quarter  to  four,  when  they 
started  for  the  polo  ground. 

"If  I  sleep  in  the  day  I  get  up  about  four  and  wan- 
der out  to  the  compound — I  do  really,  Aunt  Fanny!" 
she  said.  "And  I  met  the  most  enormous  Arab  carry- 
ing a  pail  of  water,  and  he  thought  I  was  a  ghost  and 
poured  the  water  all  over  himself!  I'd  put  a  white 
wrapper  over  my  pyjamas,  you  see;  and  I  suppose  I 
did  look  rather — Oh,  here  is  Mr.  Haines!  Now  I 
can  show  him  the  feathers." 

She  was  gone  before  Lady  Stroud  could  recover 
her  breath,  and  returned  almost  as  soon  with  the  dear 
possession,  which  she  waved  triumphantly  before  the 
Colonial  Secretary. 


128  EXILE 

"Are  they  not  beautiful?  I  bought  them  this  morn- 
ing," she  said.  "And  the  old  Jew  was  such  a  dear, 
with  corkscrew  curls  and  bleary  eyes.  He  made  me 
out  a  bill  in  Arabic — 'look !" 

"Why  did  you  buy  these  without  me?"  said  Haines 
jealously.  "I  wanted  to  give  you  some."  He  took 
the  feathers  that  Barbara  had  been  stroking  against 
her  fresh  face  and  laid  them  as  if  absently  against 
his  own.  Lady  Stroud  felt  as  if  events  were  moving 
rapidly,  and  had  a  sensation  as  of  guiding  a  runaway 
horse  in  her  position  of  restraining  Mr.  Haines' 
emotions. 

"I  think  you  have  given  Barbara  quite  enough 
presents,"  she  said  decidedly.  "She  wanted  to  buy 
these  for  herself.  And,  my  dear  child,"  she  added, 
turning  to  the  girl,  "what  do  you  mean  about  going 
out  of  doors  at  four  o'clock?  You  really  mustn't  do 
that  kind  of  thing  amongst  native  servants!" 

"But  I  was  so  wide  awake,  Aunt  Fanny!  And  it's 
so  tiresome  to  lie  in  bed  and  remember  what  happened 
yesterday.  I  do  hate  thinking  over  yesterday,  and  I 
never  do  unless  I  lie  awake." 

"The  evening's  amusement  evidently  does  not  bear 
the  morning's  reflection!"  said  Haines  teasingly. 
"Why  didn't  you  come  and  knock  us  all  up  to  amuse 
you?" 

"I  knew  Aunt  Fanny  was  tired,  and  I  never  thought 
of  you,"  said  Barbara  composedly.  "Oh,  Aunt 
Fanny" — her  lips  began  to  curl  with  delighted  mis- 
chief— "your  ayah  was  so  shocked  at  my  wearing 
pyjamas  instead  of  a  nightdress!  She  thought  I  had 
stolen  Uncle  Jonathan's.  She  wouldn't  believe  they 
were  mine." 


EXILE  129 

"Well,  it  is  a  little  unusual!"  said  Lady  Stroud, 
rather  put  out,  for  Haines  had  thrown  his  head  back 
like  a  schoolboy  and  was  laughing.  "We  have  not 
adopted  them  out  here,  for  women.  Does  your  mother 
approve,  Barbara?" 

"Not  a  bit,"  said  the  girl,  laughing  in  her  turn. 
"She  thinks  it's  fast.  She  thinks  that  everything  that 
is  hygienic  is  fast — she  would  like  me  to  sleep  with  all 
the  windows  shut." 

"She  would  think  us  past  praying  for  in  Exile, 
then!"  said  Lady  Stroud  with  a  rather  vexed  laugh. 
"For  we  have  no  windows — only  jalousies."  She 
wished  that  she  could  get  away  from  the  pyjama  sub- 
ject anyway — it  sounded  so  intimate.  And  yet  Bar- 
bara, with  a  cigarette  in  her  mouth,  talking  of  pyjamas 
or  anything  else,  could  never  be  fast.  Mrs.  Playfair 
was  wrong — the  girl  carried  her  character  in  her  eyes. 
"Well,  anyhow,  you  must  go  and  rest  if  you  don't 
sleep,"  she  added,  rising.  "We  have  some  people 
dining  here  to-night,  and  I  don't  want  you  to  look 
washed  out." 

"Mayn't  Miss  Playfair  sit  up  a  little  longer?"  asked 
Haines  with  a  twinkle  in  his  blue  eyes.  "If  she  is  a 
very  good  girl,  and  I  promise  to  look  after  her?  I've 
only  just  come  back,  and  I've  been  working  like  the 
proverbial  nigger  (the  real  one  doesn't!)  all  the 
morning." 

But  his  urgency  was,  unintentionally,  Lady  Stroud's 
best  advocate.  Barbara  took  sudden  fright  at  a  tete- 
a-tete  and  became  amenable.  "I've  got  to  write  some 
letters — I  shall  write  in  my  room,"  she  said,  passing 
her  arm  through  Lady  Stroud's  and  pressing  against 
her  unconsciously,  so  that  the  elder  woman  felt  the 


130  EXILE 

leap  of  a  startled  heart.  "It  is  only  that  Aunt  Fanny 
wants  to  make  me  lie  down,  and  I  hate  it !" 

Perhaps  he  felt  that  this  sudden  avoidance  of  him 
was  a  good  omen,  for  he  did  not  urge  his  plea.  Only 
at  four  o'clock,  when  the  motor  came  round  to  take 
them  out  to  polo,  the  intolerable  happiness  in  his  face 
caused  the  Governor's  wife  a  deeper  dismay,  and  she 
began  to  calculate  the  days — no,  hours,  minutes — that 
lay  between  her  and  the  crisis  she  was  inclined  to  post- 
pone. When  a  man  begins  to  look  as  if  heaven  were 
round  the  next  corner,  it  is  time  to  think  of  the  rate 
at  which  he  means  to  get  there. 

The  polo  ground  at  Exile  is  some  way  out  in  the 
desert,  on  the  road  to  Hervey's  bungalow.  It  is  a 
level  stretch  of  sand,  boundaried  by  little  red  flags 
that  remind  one  of  golf  more  than  the  mounted  game, 
and  it  is  open  to  all  the  winds  of  the  world.  There 
is  a  tent  in  which  the  men  can  re-adjust  disordered 
costumes,  and  a  line  of  ponies  under  the  superintend- 
ence of  Arab  grooms.  Also  there  is  a  board  on  two 
trestles  and  several  dozens  of  ginger-beer  bottles  and 
lemonade,  under  the  control  of  an  old  Somali  who 
sits  on  his  heels  and  makes  money  thereby.  He  is  all 
the  relreshment  that  the  Polo  Club  know,  and  after  the 
match  he  packs  his  goods  on  the  back  of  a  waiting 
camel  and  returns  with  them  to  Reserve,  issuing  forth 
with  a  new  stock  on  the  next  polo  afternoon.  The 
popping  of  ginger-beer  bottles  behind  the  tent  was 
as  familiar  a  sound  at  Exile  polo  as  the  click  of  the 
sticks  on  the  balls. 

Lady  Stroud's  party  found  two  other  motors 
already  on  the  scene  when  they  arrived — Dr.  Bride's, 
with  the  American  consul  and  his  wife,  and  Major 


EXILE  131 

Dalkeith's.  The  cars  stood  in  the  open  desert  just 
beyond  the  tent,  and  there  was  no  shelter  anywhere 
or  laws  of  limitation.  If  the  whole  population  of 
the  Fort  or  Reserve  had  liked  to  come  out  and  squat 
in  the  sand  to  watch  the  game  there  was  nothing  to 
stop  them.  But  the  Arab  has  his  business  as  well  as 
the  Englishman,  and  it  does  not  consist  in  playing  with 
a  ball.  ' 

"I  always  think  it  would  be  so  much  more  appro- 
priate if  they  could  train  camels  to  the  game!"  said 
Lady  Stroud,  tying  her  hat  on  a  little  more  firmly 
with  her  motor  veil.  The  wind  was  blowing  hard,  and 
every  now  and  then  little  pyramids  of  sand  whirled 
up  in  the  further  spaces  of  the  desert  and  fell  in  tiny 
ridges.  She  spoke  to  Dr.  Bride,  who  had  come  up  to 
lean  on  the  door  of  the  car  and  watch  the  play  from 
there.  Barbara  was  too  absorbed  in  the  game  already 
to  attend  to  anything  else. 

"What  awful  sticks  you  would  want!"  he  responded, 
laughing.  "Think  of  the  back-hander  behind  his 
hump!" 

"And  the  riding  off!"  added  Haines.  "Who  is 
playing  to-day,  Bride?" 

"Two  mixed  teams.  They've  got  a  native  officer 
on  a  rippin'  good  pony.  There  he  goes !" 

"Beautiful!"  said  Lady  Stroud  admiringly,  as  the 
graceful  rider  cantered  past.  "Isn't  that  Mr.  Yarrow 
on  the  grey?" 

"Yes;  he  and  the  Vanburens  came  down  with  me." 

"I  noticed  that  Mr.  Yarrow  had  a  bad  cut  over  his 
eye  last  polo  day,"  said  Lady  Stroud,  levelling  her 
glasses.  "Was  that  from  a  fall  ?" 


132  EXILE 

"I  wasn't  called  in  if  it  was!  I  can  only  refer  you 
to  the  R.A.M.C." 

"I  hardly  liked  to  sympathise  about  it,  because  one 
never  knows  what  it  comes  from,"  said  Lady  Stroud 
confidentially.  "So  many  of  them  look  as  if  they  had 
been  in  battle  after  St.  Patrick's  night!  Not  that  Mr. 
Yarrow  is  an  Irishman,  but  it  seems  to  me  that  the 
younger  men  fight  indiscriminately." 

"It's  human  natur,  p'r'aps — if  so, 
Oh,  isn't  human  natur'  low!" 

quoted  Haines  dryly.  "Puppies  are  always  worrying 
each  other — helps  'em  to  cut  their  wisdom  teeth!" 

"Yes,  only  it  seems  so  childish.  If  it  were  at  Eton 
now — but  I  never  ask  questions." 

"Lady  Stroud,  you're  an  angel  of  understanding. 
Ah,  they're  off!" 

The  bell  had  rung — a  tiny  cracked  sound  in  the 
vastness  of  the  unwalled  desert — and  the  ball  had 
been  thrown  in.  The  chukker  started  somewhat 
poorly,  but  the  pace  worked  up  under  the  stimulus 
of  the  forward  players.  It  was  a  fairly  fast  game, 
for  the  beaten  sand  was  hard  and  true.  Barbara 
leaned  forward  breathlessly,  her  soul  dawning  in  her 
eyes.  Action  was  the  medium  through  which  she 
expressed  her  personality  rather  than  thought,  and  the 
open  air  her  element.  She  looked  upon  games  as 
sacred.  Lady  Stroud  watched  her  rather  curiously, 
and  watched  Haines  too.  He  could  not  keep  his  soul 
out  of  his  face,  after  the  manner  of  most  Englishmen; 
it  kept  welling  up  in  his  eyes,  and  his  eyes  were  gen- 
erally resting  on  the  girl. 

"He  will  speak  very  soon" — thought  Lady  Stroud. 


EXILE  133 

"He  would  speak  this  afternoon  if  he  could  get  her 
away  from  the  rest  of  us;  but  I  do  not  think  there 
is  the  least  excuse  for  him  to  ask  her  to  leave  the 
car!" 

She  looked  round  the  empty  world,  and  found 
nothing  in  the  wall-less  desert,  the  ginger-beer  bottles, 
or  the  line  of  ponies  to  befriend  a  lover.  Barbara 
appeared  absorbed  in  the  game  and  unaware  of  Haines* 
proximity,  though  he  sat  next  her  in  rather  touching 
patience  for  her  chance  word  or  wish.  It  was  Dr. 
Bride  who  really  addressed  her  with  some  amusement 
at  her  absorption. 

"You  like  polo,  Miss  Play  fair?" 

"I  love  it!"  said  the  girl,  turning  a  flushed  face  to 
him.  The  wind  had  loosened  her  brown  hair  in  spite 
of  the  motor  veil,  and  a  lock  was  tossing  to  and  fro 
between  her  eyes  and  her  hat  brim.  "I  enjoyed  going 
to  Hurlingham  last  season  better  than  anything!" 

"Better  than  dancing?" 

"Yes,  on  the  whole.  I  love  dancing,  of  course, 
but  it  is  always  in  hot  rooms,  and  there  isn't  enough 
space  at  most  people's  houses,  and  you  get  sleepy 
and  tired.  Hurlingham  was  just  topping!"  Her  eyes 
shone  like  lapis  lazuli. 

"If  you  were  a  man,  would  you  play?"  asked 
Haines.  He  did  not  care  for  polo  himself.  He  could 
ride,  but  he  had  never  found  his  hobby  in  physical 
exercise. 

"Wouldn't  I!" 

"I  have  seen  ladies  play,  fairly  well  too,"  said  Dr. 
Bride.  "We  must  get  Miss  Playfair  a  pony  and  rig 
her  up." 

Lady  Stroud  intervened.     It  savoured  too  much 


134  EXILE 

of  Barbara's  pyjamas,  and  she  somehow  dreaded 
some  boyish  reference.  Barbara's  long  legs  seemed 
always  walking  her  into  danger.  "The  difficulty  is 
to  get  ponies  in  Exile,"  she  said.  "This  hiring  re- 
mounts system  of  ours  is  borrowed  from  Aden,  but 
it  seems  to  work  pretty  well.  What  do  you  pay  a 
chukker,  Dr.  Bride?" 

"One  rupee.  I  believe  the  Aden  fellows  pay  more, 
but  I  don't  know.  It's  cheaper  to  pay  for  the  Govern- 
ment ponies  than  to  keep  your  own  in  Exile,  anyway." 

"Would  you  like  a  gallop  in  the  desert?  We  could 
manage  that  one  morning  anyway,"  Haines  was  say- 
ing to  Barbara.  She  nodded  and  smiled,  but  still  kept 
her  eyes  on  the  game  till  the  chukker  ended.  "I  should 
love  it !"  she  said  then  with  her  usual  frank  emphasis. 
It  was  so  soft  that  it  hardly  sounded  like  emphasis — • 
only  a  girl's  enjoyment.  "I  am  simply  spoiling  for 
exercise;  Aunt  Fanny  doesn't  realise  it,  but  we  never 
go  out  except  in  the  motor.  I  haven't  walked  a  yard 
since  I  arrived." 

"Why  didn't  you  tell  me?"  he  asked  quickly.  "I 
will  get  you  a  pony,  or  take  you  for  walks.  You  need 
only  tell  me  what  you  want — I  am  here  to  do  it  for 
you.  You  know,"  he  added  with  a  half -ashamed 
laugh,  "I  am  in  your  uncle's  place  for  the  nonce,  and 
it  is  my  duty  to  look  after  you !" 

And  Lady  Stroud,  watching  them,  said :  "He  will 
speak  to-night  if  he  gets  a  chance — or  at  latest  to- 
morrow. It  cannot  be  fenced  off  much  longer." 

But  as  a  matter  of  fact  he  did  not  speak  until  the 
day  before  the  Admiral's  return,  and  then  it  was  as 
much  chance  as  deliberate  intention.  He  had  been 
waiting  for  it,  of  course,  but  he  had  meant  to  do  th? 


EXILE  135 

decent  thing  and  ask  the  Admiral's  leave  before  he 
said  anything,  as  Barbara  was  so  young  and  in  the 
Strouds'  care.  Rodney  Haines  was  a  gentleman;  he 
had  no  least  intention  of  taking  advantage  or  behaving 
badly.  Only,  unfortunately,  he  was  also  a  man. 
There  is  no  record  that  God  created  Adam  gentle  as 
well  as  man,  and  his  sons  are  apt  to  revert  to  the 
original  mould  under  stress  of  elementary  emotion. 

There  were  no  guests  dining  at  Government  House 
that  evening,  as  it  chanced.  Lady  Stroud  and  Barbara 
had  played  bridge  at  the  Club  in  the  afternoon,  and 
had  come  back  to  dinner  alone.  Rodney  Haines  had 
been  hard  worked  all  the  afternoon,  and  could  not 
even  get  down  to  fetch  them;  he  looked  tired  and  his 
eyes  were  unusually  large  and  strained  when  he  ap- 
peared at  dinner.  Lady  Stroud  noticed  it,  and  said 
that  they  must  all  go  to  bed  early,  or  the  Admiral 
would  ask  what  on  earth  they  had  been  doing  when 
he  returned  to-morrow. 

"You  know  we  have  been  out  every  night  since 
you  came,  or  have  had  some  one  here,  Barbara,"  she 
said  with  unnecessary  remorse.  "You  have  never 
been  to  bed  before  one,  and  you  get  up  so  early." 

"Yes,  I  know,  Aunt  Fanny — I've  enjoyed  it  so 
much!"  said  Barbara  candidly. 

"Well,  Mr.  Haines  looks  worn  out!" 

"I'm  afraid  that's  me,"  said  Barbara,  ungrammat- 
ically sympathetic.  "I  dragged  him  out  at  six  this 
morning  and  we  walked  quite  a  long  way." 

"It  was  the  best  thing  you  could  do  for  me!"  said 
the  Colonial  Secretary.  "We  none  of  us  walk  enough 
in  Exile.  I  hope  you  mean  to  repeat  the  prescription 
every  day."  He  did  not  mind  feeling  tired  while 


136,  EXILE 

those  kind  young  eyes  rested  on  him  with  self-re- 
proach. He  would  have  walked  all  round  the  coast 
of  Exile,  and  across  the  tongue  of  desert,  if  he  could 
feel  her  swinging  along  beside  him  all  alone  in  the 
strange  chill  of  the  morning,  with  the  great  sombre 
Rocks  stabbing  the  folded  grey  of  the  sky.  He  remem- 
bered the  cold,  sweet  curve  of  her  cheek  as  he  fed 
his  hungry  eyes  on  her  profile,  and  the  maddening 
desire  to  take  her  hand  in  his  and  feel  the  warm  pres- 
ence of  her  as  they  walked  so  decorously  side  by  side. 
.  .  .  "You  must  not  take  my  morning  walk  from  me !" 
he  pleaded. 

But  Barbara  was  rather  concerned  to  see  how  hol- 
low his  eyes  looked  in  the  light  of  the  new  electric 
lamps,  and  she  noticed  anew  that  his  face  was  almost 
too  sharp-cut  in  its  fine  lines.  Haines  was  of  a  clean, 
wiry  build,  so  spare  that  he  never  ranked  with  big 
men,  though  he  was  above  middle  height,  and  the  soul 
in  him  seemed  always  burning  out  the  body.  People 
sometimes  discovered  his  position  with  a  little  shock; 
he  had  the  keenness  but  not  the  shut-door  face  of  the 
mathematician,  and  might  have  belonged  to  the 
Church  or  to  Science  as  well  as  to  the  Colonial  Service. 
To  Barbara  he  was  the  most  interesting  man  she  had 
ever  met,  because  he  was  most  interested  in  her.  But 
his  air  of  overstrain  and  nervous  exhaustion  to-night 
made  him  doubly  attractive.  If  you  want  a  girl  of 
nineteen  to  admire  you,  draw  a  few  lines  in  your  face 
— she  will  never  look  at  you  without. 

"I  shall  entertain  you  and  Aunt  Fanny  to-night," 
she  said  when  they  went  out  into  the  compound  after 
dinner.  "I  am  going  to  work  the  gramophone.  You 


EXILE  137 

are  both  to  sit  quite  still  and  do  nothing;  this  is  my 
show." 

But  she  was  very  considerate.  She  laid  aside  the 
"Nightcaps"  record  and  "I'll  butt  in!"  and  she  selected 
public  singers  rendering  "Ave  Marias"  and  "Sere- 
nades" and  brass  bands  playing  Wagner  (with  the 
doors  of  the  wooden  case  half  closed).  It  was  a  little 
throaty  perhaps,  as  gramophones  often  are,  but  very 
soothing;  and  it  really  did  not  matter  because  Lady 
Stroud  dozed  and  Haines  was  not  listening — he  was 
watching  the  arc  of  light  enclosing  the  radiant  white 
figure  and  the  glossy  head  as  Barbara  moved  about 
the  table. 

At  half-past  ten  Lady  Stroud  said :  "Now,  Barbara, 
that's  enough — we  really  must  go!"  and  carried  off 
her  niece  with  her,  congratulating  herself  that  the 
danger  was  past  for  another  day,  and  to-morrow  the 
Admiral  would  be  home.  Haines  and  Barbara  shook 
hands — a  longer  clasp  than  was  strictly  necessary,  but 
then  she  was  so  sorry  to  see  him  look  tired! — and  all 
would  have  gone  well  if  in  her  hurry  the  elder  lady 
had  not  swept  the  younger  away  before  she  had  re- 
trieved the  little  silken  bag  in  which  she  carried  her 
handkerchief  and  a  cigarette  case  that  Haines  had 
given  her  of  silver  filigree  work.  After  she  had  been 
five  minutes  in  her  room  Barbara  discovered  its  loss, 
not  yet  having  taken  off  her  gown.  There  were  no 
bells  in  Government  House — it  being  a  bungalow  peo- 
ple called  "Tala  henna"  and  an  Arab  servant  ran  to 
answer.  The  partitions  of  the  rooms,  indeed,  did  not 
reach  the  ceilings,  but  allowed  a  draught  of  air  to 
circulate  straight  through.  If  Barbara  called,  Aunt 
Fanny  would  be  certain  to  hear,  and  would  send  her 


138  EXILE 

own  ayah  to  see  what  was  the  matter,  or  come  herself ; 
and  she  was  so  tired,  poor  dear !  Perhaps  the  servants 
had  not  yet  put  out  the  lamp,  and  she  could  run  across 
to  the  compound  and  get  the  bag  and  return  and  no 
one  be  the  wiser.  Barbara  opened  her  door  softly, 
saw  that  the  lights  were  not  all  out  even  in  the  draw- 
ing-room, and  ran  noiselessly  between  the  pillars  and 
through  the  door  in  the  trellis-work  out  into  the  open 
air.  .  .  . 

The  Colonial  Secretary  had  not  yet  gone  to  bed. 
He  had  told  the  Arabs  to  leave  a  light  in  the  drawing- 
room — which  Barbara  had  seen — and  was  smoking  a 
last  cigarette  under  the  flashing  night  sky.  The  lamp 
in  the  compound  had  been  removed — only  the  faint 
radius  of  those  in  the  drawing-room  shone  through 
the  open  jalousies  of  the  bungalow  and  the  trellis-work 
that  shut  in  the  compound;  but  the  night  was  alight 
with  stars,  and  Haines  was  lying  back  in  one  of  the 
deep  canvas  chairs,  his  worn  face  uplifted  to  them. 
Barbara  did  not  see  him  at  first  as  she  came  stealing 
into  the  compound  looking  for  her  bag, — but  his  head 
turned  quickly,  and  for  a  moment  he  hardly  breathed 
as  the  light-footed  filmy  white  shape  drew  nearer  to 
him  in  its  search.  The  outline  of  her  figure  looked 
almost  nebulous  in  the  uncertain  light,  and  her  face 
was  bent  down  over  the  chairs  until  she  reached  the 
very  one  in  which  he  sat.  Then  she  started  and  gave 
a  little  cry,  as  one  who  meets  with  Fate  advancing' to 
meet  her  from  what  looked  a  friendly  land. 

"Barbara !"  he  said  out  of  the  darkness,  and  had  no 
need  to  raise  his  voice,  she  was  so  near.  She  stepped 
back  as  he  rose,  almost  as  if  to  run,  for  she  was  not 
ready  for  what  she  saw  before  her — indeed  she  was 


EXILE  139 

not  ready,  and  she  felt  the  desperate  awe  of  a  young 
votary  before  the  very  fire  of  the  innermost  shrine. 

Haines  was  holding  out  his  hands  to  her,  trying  to 
draw  her  nearer  and  stammering  in  his  earnestness. 
She  caught  the  words  "Love";  "Wife";  "For  ever" 
— symbols  of  mighty  emotions  untried  by  her — and 
laid  her  own  trembling  palms  in  those  stretched  to  her 
as  if  impelled  by  his  desire. 

"I  don't  know — I  think  I  do — it  is  too  soon!"  she 
gasped  in  answer  to  his  appeal,  and  there  was  a  cloud 
of  tears  in  her  blue  eyes.  Then  the  next  thing  she 
knew  was  that  she  was  sitting  in  the  canvas  chair,  and 
he  was  kneeling  beside  her  with  his  head  down  on  her 
knees,  and  she  supposed  she  must  have  refused  him. 
His  attitude  was  so  dejected  that  it  frightened  her — 
she  had  not  quite  meant  that  perhaps,  only  it  seemed 
too  solemn  an  undertaking  voiced  in  that  "For  ever." 

"Do  you  want  me  so  much?"  she  said,  and  she  laid 
her  long  slim  hands  half  shrinkingly  on  the  shorn 
brown  head,  afraid  that  this  might  be  too  much  of  a 
caress,  but  more  afraid  to  leave  it  bowed  so  low. 

He  raised  his  face,  and  it  frightened  her.  It  was  so 
seared  and  drawn.  She  had  thought  that  love  was  a 
charming  thing,  akin  to  flowers  and  laughter  and  sun- 
shine— at  the  best  a  little  prosaic,  with  the  humdrum 
joys  of  bread  and  butter  and  good  comradeship.  But 
this  was  a  raging  fire  that  she  had  lighted — a  convul- 
sion of  Nature,  an  ocean  depth  unplumbed. 

"Only  if  I  can — make  you  love  me,"  he  said  thickly. 
The  thrusting  aside  of  a  temptation  to  take  her  in  the 
face  of  God  or  devil  was  like  a  physical  wrench,  and 
made  him  sway  under  the  exertion  of  his  own 
strength.  His  lips  twisted  a  little  as  if  with  agony, 


140  EXILE 

but  his  eyes  tried  to  smile,  and  that  was  worse  to  see. 
He  would  not  have  her  on  the  devil's  terms — he  would 
not.  Only  if  God  set  His  seal  on  the  compact  with 
love. 

But  she  saw  the  tortured  movement  and  flung  her 
arms  round  his  shoulders,  her  white  breast  above  him 
like  a  bird's.  "I  will  do  anything!"  she  said  eagerly. 
"I  only  meant — you  mustn't  think  I  don't!  I  am  only 
rather  frightened." 

In  moments  of  extreme  stress  Barbara  told  the 
exact  truth.  Always  literal,  she  found  less  difficulty 
than  a  more  complicated  nature  in  expressing  exactly 
what  she  felt,  and  in  this  case  it  was  piteously  and 
ominously  true.  She  was  "only  rather  frightened." 
But  he  caught  at  the  divine  possibility  of  her  former 
words  and  almost  laughed,  not  knowing  that  his  eyes 
were  wet. 

"May  I  take  that  to  mean  that  you  do?"  he  said; 
and  then,  "Barbara,  darling,  do  kiss  me!" 

"That's  a  little  thing,  as  I  am  going  to  be  his  wife!" 
thought  the  girl,  and  the  amazement  of  the  position 
she  found  herself  in  did  away  with  the  lesser  embar- 
rassment. She  kissed  him  rather  shyly  with  the  cold 
soft  lips  of  a  child,  and  then  added  hurriedly,  "For 
good-night !" 

"But  you  will  come  for  a  walk  early?"  he  pleaded, 
holding  her  as  she  rose.  She  leaned  a  little  away  from 
him,  as  if  afraid  of  more  endearments,  but  his  very 
touch  wns  reverent.  She  was  the  embodiment  of  a 
granted  prayer,  and  prayer  is  holy. 

"Yes,"  she  said,  and  did  not  know  that  she  would 
have  said  it  with  less  reluctance  if  they  had  not  just 
become  engaged. 


EXILE  141 

"Then  good-night,  dear  heart,  and  sleep  well!" 

He  kissed  her  again,  very  tenderly,  but  she  did  not 
this  time  return  it ;  and  then  she  crossed  the  bungalow 
to  her  own  room,  a  different  person  from  the  girl 
who  had  gone  out  to  find  her  silken  bag. 

"I  left  it  there  after  all,"  thought  Barbara,  sitting 
down  on  her  bed  with  her  hands  in  her  lap  and  not 
attempting  to  undress.  A  curious  irritation  for  the 
triviality  of  the  cause  that  had  brought  this  crisis 
upon  her  possessed  her  mind  and  would  not  be  shaken 
off.  Her  last  thought  as  she  laid  her  head  on  the 
pillow  that  night  was  not  of  Rodney  Haines. 

"I  will  have  a  pocket  in  my  next  gown,  whatever 
the  dressmaker  says!"  she  said.  "It  is  nonsense,  this 
always  leaving  things  about,  and  having  to  go  and 
look  for  them!  So  many  things  happen."  .  .  . 


CHAPTER   VIII 

"He  played — my  beautiful  soul  with  the  earnest  eyes, 
My  friend ! — my  soul,  if  the  soul  is  the  part  that  can  rise 
To  the  heights  of  God,   as  with  wings — to  the  greatest 

sublimities. 

His  long,  firm  hands  on  the  music  lingered,  and  strayed, 
Longingly,  lovingly — I — (did  he  know  I  was  by?) 
I  sat  in  the  shade  .  .  . 
He  played,  my  beautiful  soul  with  the  earnest  eyes!" 

THEO.  MARZIALS. 

LADY  STROUD  was  aware  that  Barbara  was  tak- 
ing morning  walks  with  the  Colonial  Secretary 
before  breakfast,  but  though  she  trembled  she  had  not 
as  yet  raised  an  objection.  Objections  are  apt  to 
precipitate  matters,  and  she  was  not  so  afraid  of  the 
influence  of  the  morning  as  of  the  increasing  heat  of 
the  day.  If  any  one  had  told  Lady  Stroud  that  she 
regarded  the  tropics  as  a  forcing-house  for  the  emo- 
tions she  would  have  been  shocked  into  denying  it; 
but  as  a  matter  of  fact  she  was  apt  of  her  charity  to 
attribute  many  human  backslidings  to  the  brazen 
encouragement  of  the  sun. 

"It's  the  climate,  dear,"  was  her  invariable  comment 
to  the  Admiral  if  he  were  betrayed  into  repeating  a 
particularly  racy  gossip  from  the  Club.  "Poor  things  f 
What  can  you  expect  when  the  sun  shines  all  day  and 
every  day?  It  is  so  hard  to  repent  under  a  cloudless 
sky!  England  is  so  rainy — she  obliges  you  to  think 
of  tears." 

142 


EXILE  143 

On  the  day  of  the  Silverside's  return  she  came  in  to 
breakfast  with  a  tranquil  heart;  but  a  glance  at  Bar- 
bara and  Rodney  Haines  destroyed  her  complaisance. 
Barbara  was  crumbling  bread  into  guilty  mounds  all 
round  her  plate,  and  declined  to  look  at  anything  but 
the  table-cloth,  and  Haines  was  shameless  with  happi- 
ness and  too  uplifted  to  conceal  it.  Lady  Stroud  met 
his  eyes  across  the  table,  and  thought  that  they  had 
never  been  so  big  and  blue.  They  were  rather  sad  eyes 
as  a  rule,  despite  their  eager  vitality,  as  if  they  were 

"Touched  with  the  tragedy  of  Every  Day." 

But  there  was  no  mistaking  their  expression  to  the 
mind  of  the  Governor's  wife.  How  they  shone !  She 
would  like  to  have  boxed  his  ears,  if  it  could  have  been 
done  with  dignity,  while  he  sat  opposite  to  her  with 
that  happy,  handsome  face,  and  spoiled  the  fish-cakes 
and  curry  for  her. 

"Detestable  man!"  she  thought  to  herself.  "Why 
couldn't  he  have  waited  till  Jonathan  was  back?  I 
suppose  he  proposed  to  her  in  the  middle  of  a  dirty 
Arab  street,  or  amongst  the  flabby  vegetables  in  the 
market.  He  is  rather  a  dear,  too!  If  I  were  his 
mother,  I  should  want  to  hug  him  when  he  looks  at 
her  like  that." 

Then  she  glanced  at  the  girl's  downcast  face,  and  a 
premonition  of  dismay  made  her  kindly  heart  sink. 
"She  can't  have  said  'No,'  or  he  wouldn't  look  like 
that,"  she  thought.  "But  she  is  taking  it  very  badly! 
Is  it  a  fit  of  shyness,  or  the  discomfort  of  secrecy?" 

At  this  point  Barbara  raised  her  eyes  with  perfect 
composure.  "We  walked  right  out  beyond  Fort  Bay, 
and  looked  at  the  dockyard,  Aunt  Fanny,"  she  said. 


144  EXILE 

"I  did  so  wish  we  had  had  Mr.  Hervey  with  us;  there 
are  so  many  things  I  wanted  to  know.  Do  you  think 
he  would  let  us  motor  him  out  one  day?" 

"And  we  saw  three  Arabs  going  down  to  bathe  on 
the  way,  and  Miss  Playfair  was  shocked,"  added 
Haines  with  dancing  eyes.  "She  wanted  to  run  away 
for  fear  they  should  undress.  It  never  occurred  to 
her  until  too  late  that  they  had  nothing  on  already. 
It  was  like  that  delightful  story  of  Andersen's  'The 
Emperor's  New  Clothes' !" 

"I  was  not  at  all  shocked,"  said  Barbara  resentfully. 
"I  was  afraid  there  might  be  sharks.  Mr.  Haines  had 
just  told  me  it  wasn't  safe  to  bathe  there." 

"It  isn't,  for  people  as  tempting  as  you !"  said  Haines 
audaciously.  "The  sharks  don't  like  the  taste  of  Arabs, 
they  resemble  black  bread  in  flavour,  and  your  Exile 
shark  is  a  very  dainty  eater.  He  would  fast  all  Lent 
for  a  chance  of  you  at  Easter,  Miss  Playfair!" 

"I  think  you  are  very  nasty!"  said  Barbara  with  a 
little  shiver.  "I  forgot  to  take  my  camera,  Aunt 
Fanny.  Wasn't  it  stupid  of  me?" 

"How  did  that  happen?"  asked  Lady  Stroud  grimly. 
"You  have  never  forgotten  it  before!"  (She  could 
quite  account  for  it  in  her  own  mind. ) 

"Why,  we  left  it  on  the  table  in  the  hall!"  said 
Haines  innocently,  as  if  that  were  sufficient  explana- 
tion ;  nor  did  Lady  Stroud's  glance  at  him  abash  him — 
he  only  laughed. 

"I  should  have  some  more  curry  if  I  were  you,  Mr. 
Haines,"  she  said  unkindly.  "You  have  a  lot  of 
work  before  you  when  the  Admiral  arrives.  I  expect 
you  will  be  closeted  together  all  day,  and  we  shall  see 
nothing  of  you!" 


EXILE  145 

Was  there  or  was  there  not  a  little  relaxing  of  the 
muscles  of  Barbara's  face  at  the  suggestion,  a  little 
smile  of  possible  relief  in  her  eyes?  "And  he  is  going 
to  tell  me  immediately  after  breakfast,  before  I  have 
even  digested  mine !"  thought  Lady  Stroud  with  an  in- 
ward groan.  "He  will  simply  bubble  over  with  happi- 
ness, and  I  shall  not  have  the  heart  to  cast  one  doubt 
upon  the  suitability  of  the  thing." 

She  felt  it  all  the  harder  because  she  would  herself 
have  said  that  it  was  so  suitable — but  for  that  one 
teasing  detail  of  Barbara's  manner.  The  man  was 
sure  of  a  governorship  on  his  next  promotion,  good- 
looking,  young  for  his  age, — after  all,  why  should  he 
not  be  thirty-eight  to  her  nineteen? — well  off,  and  of 
good  birth.  Only — the  curve  of  a  girl's  lips,  the  vague 
trouble  of  her  eyes,  the  long  white  fingers  crumbling 
bread  round  her  plate!  Lady  Stroud  tried  to  remem- 
ber the  details  of  her  own  engagement  to  the  Admiral, 
but  it  was  all  lost  in  rosy  light.  "We  were  ridiculous 
— but  we  were  so  happy !"  she  said  in  reminiscence. 

When  Rodney  Haines  followed  her  across  the  draw- 
ing-room, as  she  knew  he  would,  she  felt  rather  despair- 
ingly that  her  hour  was  come,  and  without  even  a 
pretence  of  beginning  her  correspondence  at  the  writ- 
ing-table she  sat  down  on  the  sofa  and  waited.  He 
came  straight  to  her  side  and  stood  looking  down  on 
her  with  those  shining  eyes  that  had  forewarned  her 
across  the  breakfast  table. 

"Lady  Stroud,  I've  done  something  very  wrong — 
something  you  won't  approve  of !"  he  said. 

"I'm  sorry  for  that,  Mr.  Haines!"  she  retorted  a 
little  pointedly.  "My  husband  being  away,  it " 

"Yes,  I  know,"  he  said  penitently.     "Of  course,  I 


146  EXILE 

didn't  mean  to  do  anything  to  vex  you  when  I'm  here 
in  charge;  but  last  night " 

"Last  night!"  said  Lady  Stroud  in  spite  of  herself. 
"I  thought  it  was  this  morning!" 

He  gave  a  little  boyish  laugh  and  sat  down  beside 
her.  "You  know  all  about  it,  don't  you?"  he  said  coax- 
ingly.  "And  I  want  you  to  forgive  me  before  I  throw 
myself  on  the  Admiral's  mercy.  If  I  have  you  on  my 
side  it  won't  look  so  bad  for  me,  will  it  ?" 

"You  know  perfectly  well  that  you  are  irresistible 
when  you  coax  like  that,"  said  Lady  Stroud  calmly, 
"and  you  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself  through- 
out!" She  held  out  her  hand  to  him  with  a  friendly, 
motherly  gesture,  and  he  bent  his  head  over  it  quickly. 

"You  won't  be  afraid  to  give  her  to  me?"  he  said 
impetuously.  She  tried  to  say  something  about  Mrs. 
Play  fair,  but  he  cut  her  short.  "Barbara  says  her 
mother  will  say  whatever  you  and  the  Admiral  say! 
Oh,  I  know  it's  a  very  short  acquaintance, — but  it 
makes  no  difference,  I  should  think  the  same  a  hundred 
years  hence." 

The  pathetic,  crippled  look  was  almost  gone  from 
his  face ;  but  somehow  she  knew  it  was  there — must  be 
there  always  somehow,  shadowing  him,  and  she 
dreaded  to  bring  it  back.  She  liked  the  triumphant 
manhood  of  him  so  much,  it  was  all  so  satis  factory- 
save  for  that  teasing  detail  of  Barbara's  face  at  break- 
fast. 

"Barbara  is  very  young!"  she  faltered. 

"But  you  won't  let  that  stand  against  me!"  he  said 
anxiously. 

"My  dear — Mr.  Haines"  (she  had  almost  said  "boy" 
to  the  Colonial  Secretary,  who  was  eight-and-thirty!), 


EXILE  147 

"there  is  nothing  against  you.  Most  chaperons  would 
welcome  you  with  open  arms,  and  I  have  no  doubt  that 
Barbara's  mother  can  be  talked  over;  but  I  have  to 
think  of  the  child  too,  you  know.  It  is  so  dreadful 
when  a  girl  does  not — does  not  know  her  own  mind !" 
she  hazarded. 

The  next  instant  she  wished  she  had  risked  anything 
rather  than  dim  the  eager  brightness  of  his  face.  "She 
is  so  young!"  she  repeated  lamely. 

"Perhaps  I  ought  not  to  have  spoken  yet — but  I 
couldn't  help  it.  Are  you  vexed  with  me?" 

"No;  but  I  somehow  wish  you  could  have  waited." 

"I've  been  waiting  all  my  life — for  this."  He  looked 
up  with  deep  pathetic  eyes  that  made  her  shiver.  "It 
is  so  wonderful!"  he  said.  But  she  wished,  all  the 
more,  that  he  had  fallen  in  love  with  a  woman  rather 
than  a  girl.  In  ten  years'  time  Barbara  might  have 
understood  that  look  and  met  it  with  an  equal  tender- 
ness. 

"Don't  be  in  a  hurry,"  she  found  herself  saying 
almost  urgently.  "Give  her  time;  she  is  so — so  inex- 
perienced." 

"Yes,  I  know,"  he  assented  readily,  but  he  did  not 
know.  "Oh,  I  will  be  good  to  her — I  will  be  very 
good." 

"Yes,  I  know  you  will — only  don't  be  too  good. 
Don't  wrap  her  up  in  cotton-wool  to  shelter  her  from 
every  wind.  Remember,  she  did  not  want  to  be  shut 
off  on  the  roof  in  the  Arab  fashion!" 

She  dreaded  a  confidence  from  the  girl  even  more 
than  from  the  man;  but  Barbara  spared  her  that  em- 
barrassment. When  she  reappeared  at  luncheon  time 
she  looked  just  as  cool  and  matter-of-fact  as  usual,  and 


148  EXILE 

she  stooped  her  tall  head  for  her  aunt's  kiss  of  silent 
congratulation  with  unexpected  composure. 

"I  suppose  that  Mr.  Haines  has  told  you,  Aunt 
Fanny,"  she  said.  "I  hope  you  do  not  mind  our  steal- 
ing a  march  on  you.  I  think  he  meant  to  have  asked 
Uncle  Jonathan's  leave  first." 

"These  things  come  on  one  rather  suddenly,  don't 
they,  Babs?"  said  Lady  Stroud  kindly.  "I  daresay 
your  uncle  can  be  persuaded  to  forgive  you — so  long 
as  you  are  happy !" 

"Of  course  I  am  happy !"  said  Barbara  with  a  little 
laugh,  opening  her  large  eyes.  She  seemed  to  have  got 
over  her  gravity  of  the  morning,  and  was  quite  ready 
to  respond  to  Haines'  teasing  and  mischief  through- 
out the  midday  meal.  After  lunch  they  sat  about  and 
talked  in  the  cool  of  the  hall  waiting  for  the  signal  to 
announce  the  Silverside's  arrival,  and  nothing  could 
have  been  more  natural  and  unembarrassed  than  their 
manner  to  each  other  and  to  her ;  yet  Lady  Stroud  had 
never  felt  more  relieved  to  see  the  Admiral's  fresh- 
coloured  face  and  curly  grey  head  than  she  did  when 
he  appeared  at  last,  and  she  had  a  sense  of  shifting  a 
great  responsibility  when  she  got  him  alone  and  broke 
the  news  to  him  first. 

"Well,"  said  the  Admiral  dryly,  "it  seems  to  me 
you've  been  pretty  busy  for  a  week.  Here's  Bunney 
just  telephoned  up  that  there's  trouble  down  at  the 
dockyard,  and  Murgatroyd  met  me  on  the  pier  with 
a  longer  face  than  usual  and  the  information  that  poor 
Lestoc  has  died  in  hospital,  and  now  you  tell  me  that 
my  Colonial  Secretary  is  engaged  to  my  niece !" 

"Jonathan,  you  won't  be  hard  on  him,  will  you?" 
said  Lady  Stroud  anxiously.  It  was  noticeable  that  she 


EXILE  149 

did  not  say  "them."  "The  poor  dear  is  so  happy;  I 
don't  think,"  added  Lady  Stroud,  with  a  wrinkle  in  her 
kind  forehead,  "that  any  one  ought  to  be  quite  so 
happy  as  that.  It  seems  somehow  like  forestalling 
Providence.  What  is  the  use  of  Heaven  if  there's  noth- 
ing fresh  to  look  forward  to  ?" 

The  Admiral  roared.  "One  might  as  well  try  the 
other  place,  eh?  Hope  he  won't  get  sent  down  for  a 
change  while  still  on  earth.  Reaction  is  the  devil's 
balance  weight.  I  say,  Fanny,  he's  not  going  to  gush 
about  Barbara,  is  he?"  The  Admiral  looked  really 
alarmed. 

"Don't  be  an  owl !"  said  Lady  Stroud.  "He's  thirty- 
eight,  and  a  C.M.G.  It  is  only  that  he  looks  so  dread- 
fully radiant."  And  she  sighed.  "What  is  this  dread- 
ful news  about  poor  Mr.  Lestoc?" 

"Too  true,  I'm  afraid.  That  Arab  prison  finished 
him  before  the  doctors  could  get  him  out.  Of  course, 
I  can't  say  so  to  any  one  but  you,  Fan,  but  my  Chief 
Justice  ought  to  be  tried  for  manslaughter." 

"I  do  so  dislike  Mr.  Everard — I  always  have  ever 
since  we  came.  I  am  thankful  that  his  worst  convic- 
tions took  place  while  we  were  home  on  leave.  Poor 
Madame  Lestoc !  and  all  those  children.  Oh,  Jonathan, 
it  is  disgraceful  that  any  man  can  have  the  power  to 
abuse  power  as  Edgar  Everard  has  done!  Surely  we 
ought  to  do  something !" 

"Oh,  come  now!"  said  the  Admiral  easily.  "I  do 
think  he  is  morally  guilty  of  poor  Lestoc's  death,  for  he 
knew  the  man  could  never  stand  the  sentence.  But 
Everard  is  well  within  his  rights,  as  far  as  we  know. 
He  came  and  talked  it  over  very  sensibly  with  me  from 
the  first — said  he  knew  he  was  damned  unpopular,  but 


150  EXILE 

what  could  he  do?  Yale  had  let  things  go  a  good  deal, 
and  showed  too  much  leniency  to  the  traders,  and  there 
was  a  good  deal  of  discontent  in  consequence  amongst 
the  Jews.  Everard  admitted  he'd  been  a  bit  drastic, 
but  there  was  such  open  contempt  of  court " 

"Yes,  I  know — he  talked  you  straight  over  to  his 
way  of  thinking!"  said  Lady  Stroud  shrewdly.  "He 
could  talk  Exile  into  the  belief  that  it  was  a  rose- 
garden.  But  he  won't  talk  Public  Opinion  over  now 
that  Lestoc  has  died.  Jonathan,  I  heard  a  rumour  that 
there's  a  Petition  against  him  praying  for  an  inquiry, 
which  has  gone  home." 

"Well,  if  there  is,  my  dear,  the  Colonial  Office  must 
see  to  it.  I  am  not  responsible,  thank  the  Lord !  We 
had  better  not  know  anything  about  the  Petition,  offi- 
cially." 

"I  wonder  if  Mr.  Everard  knows!  I  imagine  not. 
He  is  at  Health  still  on  sick  leave,  but  there  is  another 
case  to  come  up  next  month — that  murder  out  at  Ban- 
ishment. He  must  come  back  then." 

"Ah,  that's  a  case  for  a  jury,  or,  as  we  call  it  in 
Exile,  assessors;  he  can't  do  as  he  likes  there." 

"Yes,  he  can,  if  he  can  persuade  the  assessors  that 
it  was  not  premeditation.  Colonel  Darner  was  explain- 
ing it  all  to  me  the  other  night.  And  they  say  that 
Everard  is  on  the  side  of  the  prisoner  because  the 
wretched  man's  sister  is  one  of  those  women — you 
know." 

"I  say,  Fanny,  you  have  been  listening  to  scandal! 
Is  Everard  really  at  Health — since  you  know  so 
much?" 

"Yes,  really  at  Health  this  time,  though  I  don't  be- 


EXILE  151 

lieve  he  is  ill — he  is  never  ill!  His  wife  is  still  here; 
but  I  think  she  is  going  to  join  him  for  a  change." 

"What  sort  of  change  ?    For  her  or  for  him  ?" 

"Who  is  talking  scandal  now?  I  meant  for  her. 
Not  that  she  looks  to  want  it  any  more  than  he;  Mrs. 
Everard  always  looks  the  same.  She  was  dining  at 
the  Club  the  other  night  with  the  Vanburens,  perfectly 
beautiful  and  perfectly  indifferent.  I  sometimes  won- 
der whether  any  woman  knows  anything  at  all  about 
her  own  husband !" 

"Good  Lord!"  said  the  Admiral,  and  put  his  helm 
down  hard  a-port  to  avoid  a  dangerous  course.  "Her- 
vey  said  Haines  was  booked  to  dine  with  him  to-night," 
he  remarked,  reversing  the  engines  of  the  conversation. 
"I  suppose  he  won't  go  now,  eh  ?" 

"I  think  he  will.  He  has  been  with  Barbara  all  day, 
so  he  really  has  no  excuse  to  refuse.  And  men  always 
keep  their  engagements  with  Mr.  Hervey." 

She  was  quite  correct  in  her  forecast,  and  the 
Colonial  Secretary  motored  out  to  the  bungalow  in  the 
desert  that  night,  to  arrive  five  minutes  before  his  host. 
Hervey  had  been  in  unofficial  consultation  with  the 
dockyard  engineers  over  the  discovery  of  a  fresh  water 
spring  in  the  bottom  of  one  of  the  docks,  and  had  after- 
wards gone  out  to  Reserve  to  look  into  arrears  of 
business.  He  apologised  for  keeping  his  guest  waiting 
while  he  dressed,  but  turned  him  over  to  the  piano ;  and 
five  minutes  later,  while  he  changed  into  conventional 
evening  clothes,  he  heard  the  echoing  house  full  of 
melody,  and  smiled  to  himself  over  the  folding  of  his 
cummerbund. 

"There's  Tschaikowsky's  'Visions'!     I  knew  that 


152  EXILE 

long-limbed  girl  was  going  to  put  the  right  stuff  into 
his  music,"  he  said.  "Now  I  shall  have  to  listen  while 
he  tells  me  that  she  has  blue  eyes  and  a  pink  skin — 
as  if  I  hadn't  ordinary  eyesight !  I'll  forgive  him  if  he 
plays  like  that  afterwards,  though." 

His  strong  mouth  relaxed,  and  he  stood  for  a  mo- 
ment listening.  Haines  was  running  his  hands  over 
the  keys  as  if  he  loved  them — he  played  the  piano  less 
perfectly,  but  no  less  sympathetically,  than  the  violin 
— and  drawing  the  sweetness  out  of  the  deep  changing 
melody.  He  was  still  playing  when  Hervey  came 
downstairs  and  the  gong  interrupted. 

"Come  and  eat  iced  melon — there's  a  boat  in  from 
Aden,"  said  the  engineer,  dropping  his  heavy  hand  on 
the  younger  man's  slighter  shoulder.  There  were  only 
two  years  between  them,  but  at  the  moment  they  might 
almost  have  been  father  and  son.  "My  dear  fellow, 
you've  got  it  badly,  haven't  you?" 

Haines  laughed — he  could  afford  to.  "First  time 
out,  you  see,"  he  said.  "You  try  it !" 

"No,  thanks!"  Hervey  shrugged  his  broad  shoul- 
ders. "I  am  still  too  much  interested  in  my  own  future. 
There  is  no  doubt  but  that  love  is  a  handicap.  The 
minute  you  care  for  anything  or  anybody  you  slip  the 
handcuffs  on  your  own  wrists.  It  is  only  those  who 
care  for  nothing  but  themselves  who  are  free  agents." 

He  sat  down  opposite  his  guest  and  took  up  a  letter 
lying  by  his  own  plate.  "When  did  this  come?"  he 
asked  the  butler  in  a  different  tone.  The  good- 
humoured  cynicism  was  gone.  His  lips  closed  again 
more  firmly,  and  his  level  eyes  held  nothing  but  their 
own  secrets. 


EXILE  153 

"To-day,  sahib !"  was  the  oracular  answer. 

It  was  from  Mrs.  Everard.  Hervey  played  with  it 
in  his  fingers  for  a  minute  without  opening  it,  with  a 
curious  excitement  in  his  blood.  He  expected  a  delib- 
erately worded  denunciation  of  himself  and  his  insolent 
proposal,  and  rather  gloated  over  it  beforehand.  He 
was  feeling  very  virile,  very  full  of  vitality,  from  the 
cruise,  and  he  longed  to  use  his  strength  and  to  fight 
somebody  or  something.  A  physical  quarrel  being  im- 
possible, this  woman  should  prove  a  mental  foeman 
worthy  of  his  steel.  He  could  imagine  the  outspoken 
condemnation  of  her  words  before  he  read  them,  for 
she  would  not  mince  matters — she  would  thrust  true 
and  straight.  He  longed  to  hurt  somebody  in  his  turn, 
though  he  had  not  settled  his  plan  of  campaign  as  yet. 

"Don't  mind  me,  old  chap — read  your  chit!"  said 
Haines  easily.  Love  had  not  impaired  his  appetite.  He 
was  enjoying  the  iced  melon  as  a  lesser  nature  could 
not  enjoy,  for  it  is  only  fair  that  immense  capacity  for 
suffering  should  be  counterbalanced  by  a  frenzy  of  en- 
joyment, even  in  trivial  things. 

"I  have  just  got  some  white  wine  over  from  France. 
It  travels  deuced  badly,  but  try  it.  Othman,  give  Mr. 
Haines  some  sauterne!" — Hervey  broke  the  envelope 
of  the  letter  as  the  golden  wine  rippled  into  the  glasses, 
and  read  it  at  a  glance. 

"DEAR  MR.  HERVEY, 

"I  am  driving  out  as  far  as  Half-Way  House  to-morrow, 
to  meet  my  husband,  whom  I  am  expecting  to  arrive  either 
that  night  or  next  morning.  I  am  putting  up  at  Half-Way 
House,  and  should  be  grateful  to  you  if  you  would  see  that 
the  place  is  not  quite  uninhabitable.  Lady  Stroud  told  me 
that  last  time  they  were  out  it  was  falling  into  disrepair. 


154  EXILE 

I  shall  of  course  bring  my  own  servant,  who  will  buy  food 
in  the  village. 

"With  apologies  for  troubling  you, 

"Yours  sincerely, 

"CLAUDIA  EVERARD." 

Hervey  folded  the  letter,  slipped  it  into  the  envelope, 
and  put  it  in  his  pocket.  It  was  still  anybody's  game ; 
she  had  not  accepted  his  conditions — he  had  known  that 
she  would  not  do  so — but  she  was  temporising.  Per- 
haps she  was  obeying  the  letter  of  his  plan  to  make  a 
last  appeal  to  him ;  or  perhaps  she  wished  to  speak  her 
contempt  rather  than  write  it.  He  hoped  it  would  be 
the  latter.  It  gave  him  more  scope.  Anyhow,  he  was 
glad  that  the  battle  should  be  prolonged,  that  she  had 
not  been  strong  enough  to  say  the  "No"  she  meant. 
The  blood  leapt  in  his  veins  again  with  the  longing  to 
fight.  He  looked  across  the  table  at  Haines  with  a 
smile,  and  there  was  exultation  of  a  sort  in  his  own 
face. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "and  when  are  you  to  be  married  ?" 

"Oh,  within  six  months,  I  hope!"  said  the  Colonial 
Secretary.  "The  Admiral  was  awfully  good;  so  was 
Lady  Stroud.  They  will  help  to  tackle  Barbara's  peo- 
ple. I  hate  long  engagements!" 

"I  thought  this  was  the  first  time  out?"  said  Hervey, 
and  both  men  laughed.  "How  many  long  engagements 
have  you  weathered?" 

"None,  thank  God !"  He  drew  a  quick  breath,  and 
his  face  flushed  a  little.  "When  you  have  reached  my 
age  you  feel  you  want  as  much  as  you  can  have  to 
offer  a  girl.  I'm  glad  the  slate  is  a  clean  one — fairly 
clean,"  he  added  in  a  lower  tone,  twisting  the  stem  of 
his  wineglass  in  his  fingers.  No  man  would  have  had 


EXILE  155 

the  humility  or  honesty  to  add  that  rider  who  was  not 
in  love.  Before  he  meets  with  the  refiner's  fire  it  seems 
to  him  that  a  sponge  dipped  in  the  waters  of  oblivion 
will  make  any  slate  clean  enough.  To  Hervey  the 
scruple  was  absurd. 

"What  will  you  do?  Settle  down  at  home?"  he 
asked.  "For  Heaven's  sake,  Haines,  don't  raise  Here- 
fords  or  collect  teaspoons !  Marriage  is  too  often  the 
front  door  to  a  hobby,  and  a  man  with  a  hobby  is  worse 
than  a  man  with  a  grievance." 

"No,  I  shan't  leave  the  Service — now,"  said  Haines 
simply.  "I  did  mean  to;  there  seemed  nothing  much 
in  it  except  undoing  what  tfie  last  man  did  and  cutting 
down  the  expenditure.  Heavens !  we  have  never  done 
trying  to  reduce  the  Imperial  Deficit  Loan  in  the 
Colonies!  Some  Governors  save  on  the  salaries  of 
their  officials,  and  some  on  the  agricultural  grants,  but 
to  be  a  success  in  the  Service  you  must  be  a  financier. 
I  hate  cheese-paring.  I  thought  this  would  be  about 
my  last  job." 

Hervey's  face  darkened  from  its  suppressed  excite- 
ment. "Yes,  Exile  sees  the  last  of  a  good  many  of 
us,"  he  said.  "My  job's  done  too.  I'm  only  fooling 
about,  cooling  my  heels." 

"We  can't  imagine  Exile  without  you,  Hervey.  It's 
almost  traditional."  The  younger  man  looked  up,  al- 
most startled  out  of  his  own  self-interest. 

"Yes,  and  tradition  is  the  most  deadly  of  hindrances. 
I  ought  to  have  got  out  of  it  five  years  ago — either  to 
look  for  a  new  job  or  to  retire  to  the  other  side  of  the 
world  with  a  fresh  environment."  He  was  restlessly 
conscious  as  he  spoke  of  the  truth  of  his  own  words. 
As  long  as  the  work  was  there  to  do  he  had  done  it,  and 


156  EXILE 

had  not  had  time  for  the  baser  amusements  that  had 
ended  in  tempting  silly  women  beyond  their  strength, 
or  outwitting  weaker  men.  He  had  begun  it  in  reaction 
after  the  strenuousness  of  his  work  in  Exile,  and  had 
said  it  was  good  to  take  a  holiday  and  play  awhile. 
But  where  had  it  led  him?  To  such  vapid  affairs  as 
Mrs.  Bride's,  or  the  trapping  of  vermin  like  Everard ! 
He,  who  knew  himself  a  giant,  had  sat  down  to  play  at 
spillikins  with  dwarfs. 

"When  you've  got  some  one  to  fight  for  it  seems 
worth  while,"  said  Haines  thoughtfully.  "I  want  to 
get  up  top  now,  just  for  Barbara — I  want  to  give  her 
something  worth  having, — <I  want  to  give  her  every- 
thing!" he  said,  and  then  laughed  at  himself  shame- 
facedly. 

"I  said  you  were  in  for  it!"  said  Hervey  good- 
naturedly.  And  then  a  thought  struck  him  and  roused 
a  new  interest.  He  had  always  imagined  that  Mrs. 
Everard  had  had  a  deeper  liking  for  Rodney  Haines 
than  for  other  men — one  could  hardly  say  more  with 
such  a  self -concealed  nature — and  perhaps  it  was  the 
shock  of  Haines'  engagement  that  had  driven  her  into 
temporising  with  an  insult.  Perhaps  she  cared  so  little 
for  herself  now  that  she  would  even  go  so  far  as  to 
seem  compliant,  turning  the  occasion  finally  to  a  chance 
to  plead  in  her  husband's  interest.  He  had  forgotten 
Rodney  Haines  and  his  probable  influence  in  her  life. 
It  might  be  that  that  had  outweighed  the  impulse  to 
strike  him,  figuratively  at  least,  across  the  mouth ;  but 
he  never  doubted  the  impulse. 

"Is  she  suffering?"  he  wondered  with  a  curious 
cruelty  of  interest.  "It  will  be  worth  while  seeing  how 


EXILE  157 

it  affects  her.  There  should  be  something  that  will 
betray  her,  however  great  her  control." 

Rodney  Haines  had  brought  the  violin  by  request. 
Hervey  would  almost  have  sent  him  home  again  had 
he  come  without  his  fiddle,  and  he  knew  it  and  appre- 
ciated the  appreciation.  There  was  no  one  to  share 
the  musical  evening,  but  the  two  men  played  on  for 
each  other  for  an  hour  or  so  after  dinner,  Hervey  at 
the  piano  and  Haines  with  his  own  instrument.  Haines 
usually  preferred  French  music,  and  interpreted  it  as 
he  did  no  other  nation's — Berlioz  (he  played  the 
"Dance  of  the  Sylphs"  so  that  his  hearers  only  vaguely 
regretted  an  orchestra),  Chopin,  Saint-Saens,  Ropartz, 
and,  before  all,  Gounod,  whom  he  taught  men  not  to 
despise.  Gounod  is  only  to  be  properly  heard  through 
the  human  voice  or  a  violin.  When  it  comes  to  or- 
chestral effects  he  may  be  a  composer,  but  he  is  no 
longer  a  genius.  Haines  took  his  melodies  and  made 
them  living  things.  But  to-night  he  chose  Tschaikow- 
sky  rather  than  the  Frenchman,  and  played  the 
"Visions"  all  over  again  for  Hervey's  benefit,  until  the 
older  man  could  have  wept  for  his  lost  youth  and  the 
spirit  of  romance  that  lies  just  beyond  the  horizon  of 
all  lives.  Haines  had  never  played  so  before,  but  he 
could  never  again  lose  what  he  had  gained  because  a 
soul  had  been  born  into  his  music. 

"This,"  said  Hervey  when  he  was  leaving,  "has  been 
a  great  night."  And  then  his  thought  ran  on,  and  he 
wondered  what  different  sort  of  evening  he  should 
spend  to-morrow.  Discord  for  the  harmony,  enmity 
of  a  woman  instead  of  friendship  with  a  man.  "Give 
me  my  own  sex  for  company!"  he  said  out  of  the 
knowledge  behind  him. 


158  EXILE 

Haines  looked  round  the  great  echoing  rooms  affec- 
tionately. They  were  excellent  for  sound,  being  bereft 
of  carpets  and  draperies.  And  because  Hervey  had  a 
garden  there  was  not  that  lack  of  flowers  that  made 
the  Fort  barren. 

"I  say,  Hervey,"  said  the  Colonial  Secretary,  with 
a  half  apologetic  smile,  "there's  a  thing  you  could  do 
for  me — if  you  don't  mind.  Can  you  spare  some  jessa- 
mine? I  think  Barbara  would  like  some." 

The  jessamine  that  grows  in  Exile — or  rather  in  the 
desert,  for  nothing  will  grow  on  the  Rocks — is  a  larger 
variety  than  the  one  at  home.  The  flowers  are  thick 
clustered,  strong-scented,  and  tropically  luxuriant,  for 
there  are  wells  at  Golgotha,  and,  though  they  are  brack- 
ish, certain  things  will  grow.  Hervey  rang  a  bell  and 
told  his  butler  to  get  Mr.  Haines  a  big  bunch  of  flowers 
and  put  it  in  the  car  that  was  waiting  for  him — "Any- 
thing you  can  cut,"  he  said  laconically. 

"Thanks  awfully !"  said  Haines,  with  an  earnestness 
of  gratitude  that  made  his  host  smile  a  little  dryly. 
"There  are  so  few  things  one  can  give  a  girl,  out  here ! 
Somehow  one  does  miss  being  able  to  take  her  a  few 
flowers  or  sweets!" 

"Send  home  to  Charbonnel's.  She  needn't  wait  till 
you  get  to  England  to  make  herself  sick.  I  suppose 
you  would  be  ordering  a  florist's  shop  every  day  at 
home,  but  we'll  do  our  best  for  you." 

He  had  never  thought  of  giving  Mrs.  Bride  or  any 
other  passing  love  so  ephemeral  a  thing  as  the  flowers 
from  his  garden.  He  had  generally  placed  his  cars  at 
their  disposal  for  the  time  being,  and  had  made  sub- 
stantial purchases  of  silks  or  feathers  in  the  Arab 
shops.  In  one  case  he  had  written  a  cheque  for  some 


EXILE  159 

bridge  debts.  Women  preferred  solid  benefits,  in  his 
experience;  but  the  cases  were  widely  different.  He 
wondered  if  he  should  ever  be  such  a  fool  as  to  cut 
goldmore  blossoms  and  jessamine  and  Japanese  lilies 
for  a  woman,  and  what  she  would  say  if  he  did!  It 
was  improbable,  anyway.  He  was  not  a  sentimental 
person. 

But  Rodney  Haines  drove  home  across  the  desert 
with  a  great  bunch  of  sweetness  making  the  night 
odorous,  and  when  he  presented  himself  at  Govern- 
ment House  the  next  afternoon  (he  resisted  going  in 
the  morning)  he  brought  Barbara  the  scarce  flowers 
that  only  Hervey  could  grow  in  any  profusion.  She 
thanked  him  very  sweetly,  but,  the  rest  of  the  house 
party  being  present,  there  could  be  no  demonstration. 

"That's  a  good-sized  posy  for  Exile!"  said  the  Ad- 
miral, looking  with  kindly  criticism  at  the  tall  white 
girl  standing  by  the  teatray  with  her  hands  full  of 
flowers.  "Rather  suggestive  of  a  bride,  eh,  Babs  ?" 

The  girl  flushed  quickly,  and  made  a  movement  al- 
most as  if  she  would  put  her  flowers  down.  One  of  the 
goldmore  blossoms  broke  and  fell,  not,  appropriately, 
at  Haines'  feet,  but,  as  it  chanced,  at  Merryn's.  The 
Flag-Lieutenant  was  waiting  as  usual  for  a  chance  of 
usefulness,  and  was  ready  to  hand  cups  in  silence.  He 
was  not  a  talkative  young  man. 

"You  have  presented  Mr.  Merryn  with  a  button- 
hole!" said  Lady  Stroud  kindly,  coming  to  the  rescue 
of  Barbara's  hot  cheeks.  The  girl  looked  almost  dis- 
tressed— Jonathan  ought  not  to  tease  young  people! 
"Put  it  in  your  coat,  and  go  and  call  on  all  the  smart 
ladies  of  the  garrison,  Mr.  Merryn!  What  are  you 
doing  this  afternoon?" 


160  EXILE 

"I  was  going  to  play  polo,  Lady  Stroud." 

"There  won't  be  much  goldmore  blossom  left  when 
you've  finished!"  said  the  Admiral  with  a  chuckle. 
"Bride  tells  me  that  there  was  a  scrum  one  week,  and 
the  R.A.M.C.  had  to  bind  up  broken  brows !" 

"Perhaps  that  accounts  for  Mr.  Yarrow's!"  said 
Lady  Stroud  with  obvious  relief.  She  was  so  chari- 
table that  even  a  small  doubt  was  abhorrent  to  her.  "I 
was  really  quite  afraid  he  had  been  fighting.  I  believe 
I  told  Dr.  Bride  so." 

"Then  that  accounts  for  Bride's  information  to 
me!"  said  the  Admiral,  the  chuckle  growing  into  a 
great  laugh.  "He  calculated  on  it  reaching  you  and 
affording  a  kind  delusion.  He's  a  good  little  fellow 
is  Bride." 

"Yarrow's  scar  is  now  becoming  an  asset,"  said 
Haines,  with  his  eyes  dancing.  "He  was  at  the  Club 
dance  a  night  or  so  ago,  and  he  was  trying  to  impress 
on  Mrs.  Vanburen  that  it  was  a  birthmark  and  much 
cherished  in  his  family.  I  thought  that  showed  in- 
genuity." 

"Yes,"  chimed  in  Mr.  Smyth,  the  secretary;  "he 
said  that  an  ancestor  gained  it  in  the  Crusades  from  a 
blow  by  a  mailed  fist,  and  it  has  reappeared  at  every 
third  generation  since !  The  Vanburens  being  Ameri- 
cans, he  hoped  to  impress  them." 

There  was  a  laugh,  which  did  not  somehow  include 
Barbara  or  Merryn.  The  Flag-Lieutenant  had  not 
picked  up  the  goldmore  blossom  which  still  lay  at  his 
feet;  he  fidgeted  restlessly,  and  his  good-looking  face 
was  unusually  embarrassed.  As  a  rule  there  was  noth- 
ing to  read  in  Mr.  Merryn's  smooth  burnt  face  but  a 
healthy  love  of  the  open  air.  His  eyes  were  blue,  but 


EXILE  161 

not  in  the  least  like  the  blue  of  Barbara's  or  of  Rodney 
Haines'.  There  are  as  many  variations  of  colour  as  of 
harmonies.  He  was  clean-shaven,  being  a  gunnery 
man,  and  his  lips  were  rather  full  and  firm.  If  his  face 
ever  became  animated  it  was  usually  at  a  mention  of 
sport;  but  on  the  present  occasion  he  was  displaying 
an  animated  discomfort,  had  any  one  chanced  to  notice 
it.  He  glanced  at  Barbara,  but  she  was  looking  down 
at  her  flowers,  and  there  was  nothing  in  the  soft  seri- 
ousness of  her  face  to  deny  or  encourage.  At  last  he 
stooped  suddenly,  under  cover  of  the  laugh  at  Mr. 
Yarrow's  expense,  and  picked  up  the  goldmore  blos- 
som, in  his  hand.  He  was  still  carrying  it  when  he 
made  his  excuses  and  went  out  to  find  his  waiting  pony 
in  the  compound,  but  it  was  not  in  his  coat  as  he  rode 
down  the  sandy  slopes  to  polo. 

It  is  possible  that  Mr.  Merryn's  thoughts  ran  on  the 
untowardness  of  Fate  that  sent  one  girl  into  a  colony 
teeming  with  young  men  and  then  bestowed  her  on  an 
official  of  eight  and  thirty,  who  might  be  supposed  to 
be  happy  enough  in  a  respected  record  and  good  pros- 
pects. There  was  really  nothing  left  for  the  young 
men  to  do  except  devote  themselves  to  the  married 
ladies  of  the  Fort,  and  this  was  productive  of  scandal 
at  the  Club.  Mr.  Merryn  may  have  felt  inclined  to 
reproach  Fate  with  the  just  plea  that  one  girl  was  not 
enough  to  go  round.  But  ( it  is  much  more  probable 
that  he  told  himself  that  Exile  was  a  beast  of  a  hole 
because  there  was  nothing  to  shoot  and  still  less  to  hunt, 
and  the  soldier  men  had  all  the  luck.  There  is  m. 
naval  station  at  Somaliland,  for  instance,  and  even  tf 
you  do  go  to  China  it  is  getting  harder  and  harder  tfc 
obtain  sufficient  leave  for  a  good  shoot.  Anyhow,  he 


162  EXILE 

did  the  best  he  could  with  the  resources  at  his  com- 
mand and  played  polo ;  and  being  No.  2  made  a  notably 
fine  shot  on  the  near  side  that  sent  the  ball  slick  through 
the  other  fellows'  goal.  It  ought  to  have  contented 
him,  but  so  cross-grained  is  human  nature  that  I  am 
afraid  he  wondered  if  Haines  had  motored  out  to  Fort 
Bay  with  his  fiancee,  and  wished  he  could  see  the  great 
breakers  rolling  in  from  Banishment — just  as  Barbara, 
looking  out  over  the  blue  waters,  wished  that  she  were 
playing  polo ! 


CHAPTER  IX 

"Not  with  my  soul,  Level — bid  no  soul  like  mine 

Lap  thee  around  nor  leave  the  poor  sense  room! 
Soul — travel-worn,  toil-weary — would  confine 

Along  with  soul,  soul's  gains  from  glow  and  gloom, 
Captures   from  soarings  high  and  divings  deep. 
Spoil-laden  soul,  how  should  such  memories  sleep? 
Take  sense,  too — let  me  love  entire  and  whole — 
Not  with  my  soul !" 

ROBERT  BROWNING. 

AT  the  Club  next  day  they  were  discussing  the 
Petition  which  must  by  now  have  reached  Eng- 
land, and  the  chances  of  the  Colonial  Office  giving  a 
satisfactory  reply.  Though  the  Petition  had  been 
signed  by  no  one  officially  connected  with  Exile  it  had 
been  privately  known  and  approved  by  most  of  the  men 
present,  who  had  backed  the  foreign  consuls  and  the 
European  traders  with  sympathetic  support.  In  the 
strong  feeling  that  existed  against  Everard  they  would 
have  helped  the  scheme  financially  had  it  gone  to  the 
High  Court,  and  in  the  dearth  of  interests  in  Exile  it 
formed  an  engrossing  topic  of  conversation  and  specu- 
lation. The  cables,  printed  on  flimsy  paper  and  posted 
in  the  reading-room  of  the  Club,  announced  the  arrival 
of  the  mail  by  which  the  Petition  had  gone  home  with 
a  broken  propeller,  and  a  little  knot  of  men  were  clus- 
tered round  them,  reading  over  each  other's  shoulders. 
"Glad  she  didn't  go  to  the  bottom,  or  it  would  have 

163 


1 64  EXILE 

all  been  to  do  over  again,"  said  Yarrow,  with  a  fine 
disregard  for  the  fate  of  the  passengers  and  crew  as 
compared  with  the  mails.  "As  it  is  she's  three  days 
late." 

"It  would  have  been  done  again,  anyhow,"  said  Dr. 
Bride  doggedly.  "If  I  had  to  give  up  leave  and  walk 
round  Exile  to  beat  up  signatures,  I'd  have  got  that 
thing  through." 

"PoorLestoc!" 

"Poor  Everard — before  Exile  has  done  with  him!" 
said  Yarrow  grimly.  "I  wonder  what  the  sentence 
would  be  for  telling  him  once  what  we  thought  of  him, 
before  it's  all  over!" 

"Eighteen  months,"  said  Vanburen,  the  American 
consul,  cynically.  "No  one  is  going  to  get  two  years 
and  a  chance  of  appeal  in  Everard's  hands !  Is  he  still 
located  at  Health,  by  the  way  ?  Here,  Hervey, — come 
and  look  at  the  cables."  The  Government  engineer  had 
just  entered  the  writing-room  and  strolled  over  to  join 
the  group.  "Have  you  heard  if  Everard  has  returned 
from  Health?"  said  Vanburen  in  a  lower  tone. 

"I  think  not;  but  there  is  some  talk  of  his  coming," 
said  Hervey,  reading  over  the  other  men's  shoulders 
from  his  greater  height.  He  smiled  a  little,  as  if  in 
some  amused  reminiscence.  "The  Chief  Justice  finds 
that  the  air  of  Health  suits  him  better  than  even  Ban- 
ishment at  present."  What  he  was  really  thinking  of 
was  that  ambiguous  clause  in  Mrs.  Everard's  letter — 
"I  am  expecting  my  husband,  either  to-morrow  or  next 
day" — and  he  wondered  whether  there  might  be  a 
grain  of  truth  in  it,  though  the  idea  had  been  prompted 
by  himself. 

"There's  this  case  of  the  Haroun  Ali  crime  coming 


EXILE  165 

on  in  a  few  weeks,"  said  Smyth,  the  Admiral's  secre- 
tary, looking  at  the  older  man  for  an  opinion.  "Will 
he  dare  to  get  the  murderer  off,  do  you  think?" 

"There  is  very  little  he  has  not  dared  at  present!" 
said  Hervey,  with  a  faint  wonder  that  was  almost  ad- 
miration in  his  tone.  "Why  should  he  not  get  the  man 
off?  A  little  mercy  would  be  a  change,  and  sound  well 
when  he  comes  to  explain  himself." 

"There  won't  be  much  explanation  of  Lestoc.  Did 
you  see  him  before  he  died,  Doctor?" 

"Yes,  poor  fellow !"  said  Bride,  his  face  falling  from 
its  usual  cheerfulness.  "He  asked  me  to  get  up  a  sub- 
scription for  his  wife  and  children.  The  business  is 
ruined,  you  know." 

Several  hands  went  instinctively  into  several  pockets, 
and  the  men's  faces  would  not  have  made  a  pleasant 
group  of  jurors  had  Everard  himself  been  on  his  trial. 

"And  he  used  to  be  one  of  the  few  decent  business 
men  here,"  burst  out  Yarrow.  "Oh,  it's  damnable!" 

"Put  me  down  for  a  pony,  Bride,"  said  the  Colonial 
Treasurer,  who  was  standing  by.  "The  British  ought 
to  bear  the  brunt  of  their  own  cursed  system.  That 
one  of  our  judges  should  have  given  such  a  rotten 
show — that's  the  thing  I  can't  swallow." 

"Switzerland  ought  to  go  to  war  about  it,"  said 
Yarrow  hotly.  "He  was  her  consul — we  would  if 
they'd  treated  our  man  like  that." 

"Oh,  shut  up,  Yarrow — you're  always  going  to  war 
about  something.    Didn't  you  have  enough  of  it  with  ( 
the  Germans?     Hervey,  what's  your  opinion?     Will 
the  Colonial  Office  take  the  matter  up  on  our  Petition  ?" 

"They  are  bound  to,"  said  Hervey  quietly.  "There 
may  be  some  jibing,  but  it's  only  a  matter  of  time." 


1 66  EXILE 

It  was  his  firm  conviction,  and  had  been  all  along, 
when  the  Petition  was  first  mooted.  A  Petition  as 
representative  as  the  one  that  had  gone  home,  backed 
by  certain  evidence  that  had  accumulated  since  Ever- 
ard's  first  sweeping  sentences,  was  not  a  thing  that 
even  the  British  Government  could  put  aside.  The 
charges  were  grave  and  demanded  an  inquiry.  He 
marvelled  that  Everard,  astute  as  he  had  shown  him- 
self, had  not  foreseen  this ;  but  the  man  seemed  to  have 
lost  his  head  a  little  latterly  and  become  drunk  with 
power.  Secure  in  the  legal  knowledge  that  no  action 
could  lie  against  him,  he  could  discountenance  an  in- 
quiry, which  after  all  must  take  some  time,  even  if  he 
had  heard  of  the  Petition,  which  it  was  probable  that 
he  had  not,  as  it  was  carefully  engineered  and  restricted 
to  influential  names.  The  one  thing  that  had  shaken 
his  nerve  and  filled  him  with  craven  terror  was  the 
consequence  of  Hervey  publishing  the  contents  of  his 
own  unguarded  letter.  That  frank  confession  of  ras- 
cality, once  knpwn  in  the  bazaars,  might  have  endan- 
gered his  personal  safety,  and  Everard,  who  had  no 
moral  fear,  was  the  most  utter  physical  coward.  He 
knew  himself  unpopular  with  the  Arab  population, 
partly  from  his  favouritism  of  the  Jews  and  partly 
from  having  interfered  with  their  women.  His  house 
at  Banishment  was  becoming  notorious  not  only  for 
the  unmarried  girls  he  had  bought — for  the  lower  class 
Arab  in  Exile  thinks  but  little  of  his  daughter's  virtue 
— but  for  unfaithful  wives  who  were  suspected  of  hav- 
ing been  there.  No  charge  so  serious  to  an  Arab  had 
ever  been  proved,  or  even  his  position  as  a  Government 
official  might  not  have  saved  Edgar  Everard;  but  he 
alone  knew  how  narrow  the  escape  had  been,  and,  once 


EXILE  167 

give  the  people  the  incentive  of  knowing  that  the  Chief 
Justice  had  not  the  moral  support  of  the  English,  there 
was  more  than  a  probability  that  they  would  take  the 
law  into  their  own  hands.  Hervey  knew  this,  because 
he  knew  Exile  and  its  population  as  no  Governor  had 
ever  known  it  in  his  brief  tenure  of  office ;  but  Everard 
knew  it  too,  with  his  coward's  instinct,  and  it  had 
paralysed  him.  His  blunder  about  Hervey  and  the  firm 
of  Moses,  Kalif  &  Co.  had  been  partly  the  result  of 
Arab  treachery,  for  he  had  been  intentionally  misin- 
formed through  his  women. 

Hervey  did  not  play  bridge  that  afternoon,  he  waited 
until  the  Admiral  put  in  an  appearance  to  have  a  chat 
with  him  about  the  trouble  at  the  dockyard  from  the 
fresh-water  spring;  for  the  Admiral  liked  to  be  con- 
sulted though  he  was  extremely  impracticable  in  his 
views,  and  drove  the  engineering  staff  nearly  wild  with 
a  desire  to  rival  Malta,  regardless  of  geographical  in- 
equalities. Hervey  did  not  mind,  and  while  the  Ad- 
miral was  lured  into  stating  his  opinions  and  having 
them  tenderly  exposed  in  their  foolishness,  he  did  not 
know  that  he  was  being  humoured  like  a  child.  He 
went  off  to  play  auction  at  six  o'clock,  with  the  firm 
conviction  that  he  had  converted  Hervey  to  improve- 
ments which  the  engineer  had  just  put  into  his  head, 
leaving  Hervey  to  make  his  way  leisurely  out  of  the 
Club  and  to  his  own  car.  He  met  Rodney  Haines  and 
his  fiancee  coming  in,  Barbara  with  some  of  his  own 
flowers  in  the  breast  of  her  white  gown. 

"Come  back  and  have  a  chat,"  said  Haines  cordially. 
"Barbara  and  I  have  tramped  out  to  Fort  Bay  and 
back,  and  came  on  to  look  after  Lady  Stroud." 

"She  hasn't  arrived  yet.    Where's  Merryn?" 


168  EXILE 

"Playing  polo,"  said  Barbara  without  waiting  for 
Haines  to  answer.  "Do  come  back,  Mr.  Hervey !" 

"I  can't,  thanks,  Miss  Playfair.  I  have  an  engage- 
ment." 

For  one  fantastic  moment  he  wondered  what  she 
would  say  if  she  knew  the  purport  of  that  engagement, 
and  that  Mrs.  Everard  was  coming  out  to  the  bungalow 
in  the  desert.  But  her  large,  clear  eyes  were  so  empty 
of  all  meaning  in  life  save  visible  things  that  he  was 
spared  a  sense  of  shame,  even  in  the  speculation.  She 
simply  would  not  understand,  or  if  she  understood  she 
would  not  credit  it. 

He  turned  away  and  got  into  his  car — in  the  driver's 
seat  as  usual.  But  he  did  not  drive  as  fast  as  usual 
to-night,  and  his  hard  face  was  harder  than  ever 
against  the  flaming  sunset  behind  Banishment  islet. 
Perhaps  even  he  was  slow  to  meet  the  cruelty  that  he 
had  designed,  though  his  bitter  purpose  never  faltered. 
When  he  reached  his  own  gates  he  drew  up  at  Hassan's 
house  instead  of  turning  in  and  got  out  of  the  car. 

"You  can  take  her  round  to  the  garage,"  he  said  to 
the  Arab  chauffeur.  "I  am  going  in  here  for  a 
minute." 

His  inspection  of  the  house  and  interviewing  of  the 
caretakers  did  not  take  him  long.  It  was  nothing  but 
a  farce — he  knew  that  without  prearrangement  it  would 
be  almost  impossible  for  any  lady  to  sleep  there.  Then 
he  walked  over  to  his  own  bungalow. 

"Mrs.  Everard  has  written  me  that  she  is  coming  out 
on  her  way  to  meet  the  Chief  Justice,"  he  told  his  but- 
ler. "She  meant  to  put  up  at  Hassan's,  but  it  is  quite 
impossible.  I  have  been  over  there,  and  the  house  is 
unprepared.  They  must  come  here  of  course.  She 


EXILE  169 

does  not  know  if  Mr.  Everard  will  arrive  to-night  or 
to-morrow,  but  you  had  better  prepare  the  big  room 
for  them — the  one  next  to  mine." 

"Yes,  sahib." 

The  order  had  been  given  in  Arabic,  and  Othman 
withdrew  to  see  that  the  great  chamber  was  ready. 
The  appearance  of  two  guests  at  a  moment's  notice  was 
no  unusual  thing  at  Hervey's  bungalow,  and  did  not 
inconvenience  the  cook.  Hervey  did  not  even  trouble 
to  give  extra  orders  about  dinner  or  to  superintend  the 
table.  Othman  knew  his  work.  There  would  be  plenty 
of  flowers,  in  spite  of  the  generous  bunch  that  had  been 
cut  for  Mr.  Haines  last  night. 

The  master  of  the  house  heard  the  roll  of  Mrs. 
Everard's  car  as  he  was  looking  over  the  afternoon's 
chits,  brought  out  by  special  messenger.  It  stopped 
in  the  road  outside,  at  Half-way  House;  but  he  had  left 
a  message  there,  and  he  knew  what  would  follow. 
Each  move  of  the  game  they  were  playing  had  been 
carefully  prepared,  and  he  wondered  whether  she 
would  show  any  perturbation,  whether  she  would  fol- 
low his  lead  ill  or  well.  When  she  appeared  a  few 
minutes  later  in  her  long  motor  coat,  however,  the  veil 
to  save  her  from  dust  and  desert  sand  was  still  wound 
over  her  head  and  face,  and  served  as  an  effective 
screen. 

"I  understand  that  you  are  kind  enough  to  invite 
me  to  dinner,"  she  said  with  perfect  composure  as  they 
shook  hands.  Her  voice,  coming  from  under  those  soft 
grey  folds,  told  him  nothing  save  that  she  was  a  little 
weary.  "It  is  very  good  of  you." 

"More  than  that,  I  am  afraid  that  you  must  let  me 
put  you  up,"  he  said  courteously.  "I  went  over  to 


170  EXILE 

Hassan's,  but  they  were  totally  unprepared,  and  it 
would  be  quite  impossible  for  you  to  stay  there." 

"I  am  afraid  I  gave  you  very  short  notice,"  she 
agreed  quietly. 

"My  servant  will  show  you  your  room  and  take  your 
luggage  up,"  he  said.  "If  there  is  anything  you  want, 
will  you  tell  him?" 

"I  think — I  should  like  a  bath !"  said  Mrs.  Everard, 
with  such  extreme  nonchalance  that  for  a  moment  he 
was  nonplussed.  Had  this  woman  no  nerves  to  shake 
her,  magnificent  control?  "The  journey  across  the 
desert  is  a  little  trying.  I  feel  as  if  the  sand  had  pene- 
trated my  clothes." 

"Certainly!"  said  Hervey,  recovering  himself.  "I 
am  so  used  to  it  I  hardly  notice  it  now,  but  to  a  lady  it 
must  be  a  trial.  Have  you  a  servant  with  you?" 

"My  ayah.  I  suppose  she  can  sleep  in  the  servants' 
quarters  ?" 

"Of  course.  Take  al  Siyyidha  to  her  room,  Othman, 
and  see  that  the  ayah  prepares  a  bath." 

Mrs.  Everard  turned  to  follow  the  Arab  up  the  single 
flight  of  stairs  to  the  rooms  above,  but  as  she  did  so 
Hervey  deliberately  crossed  the  room  to  her  side. 

"Do  you  expect  the  Chief  Justice  to-night,  or — to- 
morrow?" he  said. 

Mrs.  Everard  paused  in  her  turn.  "I  am  afraid  he 
will  not  arrive  in  time  for  dinner,"  she  said.  "If  he  is 
not  here  by  ten  o'clock  I  am  not  to  expect  him  until 
to-morrow." 

"Very  well." 

He  moved  aside  to  let  her  pass,  which  she  did  with- 
out another  glance  in  his  direction.  Hervey  stood  at 
the  foot  of  the  stairs  a  moment,  watching  her  as  she 


EXILE  171 

ascended  with  an  inscrutable  face.  She  was  a  very 
graceful  woman,  and  her  grey  draperies  clung  round 
her  like  some  grey  cloud.  He  saw  the  last  fold  of 
them  disappear  on  to  the  floor  above,  and  then  he 
laughed  a  little,  shortly,  and  there  was  a  racing  element 
of  excitement  in  it. 

When  the  gong  went  at  half-past  eight  he  was 
already  in  the  dining-room  awaiting  his  guest.  The 
rooms  led  out  of  each  other  in  the  fashion  of  Exile 
houses,  so  that  there  was  small  reason  for  remaining  in 
the  outer  room  before  dinner.  Hervey  looked  impres- 
sive in  evening  dress ;  his  shoulders  were  so  very  broad 
under  the  white  dinner  jacket,  and  his  height  made  it 
impossible  for  the  rooms  to  dwarf  him  despite  their 
vastness.  On  the  square  grey  head  the  thick  hair 
looked  like  burnished  silver,  and  his  face  kept  its  own 
secrets.  There  was  nothing  to  say  of  him  but  that  he 
was  a  strong  man, — the  strength  might  be  qualified 
with  cruelty,  or  hardness,  or  strict  justice,  but  the 
bed-rock  of  his  nature  was  strength. 

The  gong  had  hardly  ceased  reverberating  before 
Mrs.  Everard's  footfall  sounded  on  the  uncarpeted 
stair,  and  then  she  was  coming  across  the  library,  and  a 
moment  later  she  appeared.  Hervey  had  never  seen  her 
so  perfectly  beautiful  or  so  composed.  Sometimes  in 
looking  at  her  face  he  had  been  surprised  by  a  sus- 
picion of  pain  in  the  wide  brows  or  curved  red  mouth, 
but  to-night  there  was  nothing  but  a  great  tranquillity 
as  if  she  were  supremely  at  her  ease.  He  had  wondered 
idly  if  she  would  wear  the  same  dark  dress  as  at  their 
last  interview,  but  her  dinner  gown  was  white  with 
long  transparent  sleeves  to  the  wrist,  and  only  open 
sufficiently  to  show  the  curve  of  her  throat  and  neck. 


172  EXILE 

He  liked  the  way  she  had  wound  her  dull  gold  hair 
round  her  head,  leaving  a  clean  outline,  and  the  absence 
of  any  ornament  or  jewellery  about  her.  Her  skin  was 
really  flawless,  and  how  crimson  her  mouth  looked  by 
contrast!  That  curve  of  her  short  upper  lip  was  her 
greatest  charm,  perhaps,  if  one  excepted  the  curious 
eyes  with  their  winy  colour  beneath  the  smudged 
lashes. 

"What  satisfactory  rooms  you  have  here !"  said  Mrs. 
Everard  as«  she  took  the  seat  opposite  her  host.  "I  had 
forgotten  the  house ;  I  have  been  here  so  little." 

"You  do  not  favour  me  very  often,"  said  Hervey, 
his  level  eyes  resting  on  her  across  the  clusters  of  flow- 
ers which  filled  the  centre  of  the  table  in  honour  of  al 
Siyyidha.  He  found  her  a  goodly  picture,  no  more. 
Indeed,  her  composure  angered  him  as  always. 

"I  do  not  remember  that  you  have  asked  me,"  said 
Mrs.  Everard  quietly,  with  a  truthfulness  that  was 
more  effective  than  excuse. 

"You  were  not  at  the  Club  to-day,"  he  said,  to 
change  the  subject.  He  could  not  very  well  admit  that 
he  never  asked  a  woman  whom  he  found  dull.  Mrs. 
Everard  was  not  dull  at  the  present  moment,  to  his 
mind,  but  she  was  still  baffling. 

"No,"  she  said.  "I  was  just  going  down  when  Mrs. 
Vanburen  called  on  me  with  a  subscription  list.  Do 
you  know  Mrs.  Vanburen  ?" 

"In  connection  with  a  subscription  list  I  do,"  he  said. 
"She  is  so  charitable  that  she  overreaches  herself." 

"I  imagine  that  they  have  not  much  means,  and  her 
natural  generosity  takes  the  form  of  a  subscription 
list." 

"Oh,  I  grant  you  her  virtues.    But  she  is  so  anxious 


EXILE  173 

to  have  money  to  give  away  that  she  would  almost  col- 
lect it  from  the  people  to  whom  she  wishes  to  give  it. 
What  was  her  object  this  time?" 

"I  have  not  the  faintest  idea.  I  do  not  think  I  lis- 
tened. I  only  know  that  I  subscribed  seventy-five 
rupees !" 

They  both  laughed  a  little,  but  the  situation  struck 
Hervey  with  a  sense  of  unreality,  like  a  scene  in  a  play. 
The  flower-laden  table,  better  appointed  than  any  in 
Fort  Exile,  except  Government  House,  his  "bare-footed 
servants  moving  to  and  fro  with  the  tempting  dishes 
(it  was  an  excellent  dinner),  the  beautiful  woman  fac- 
ing him  with  her  soft,  unruffled  face,  made  a  charming 
sensuous  picture  in  which  tragedy  and  insult  and  re- 
venge had  no  place.  And  yet  he  felt  that  he  and 
Claudia  Everard  were  far  more  a  part  of  the  tragedy 
than  of  these  outward  semblances.  And  he  wondered 
how  soon  the  tragedy  would  begin — at  what  point  in 
the  game  the  courtesies  would  stop,  and  she  would  rise, 
outraged,  to  denounce  him.  It  was  impossible  before 
the  servants.  Perhaps  she  would  wait  till  they  were 
gone.  In  his  character  of  host  he  fulfilled  his  part  per- 
fectly in  the  meanwhile. 

"I  hope  you  will  drink  some  wine,"  he  said.  "I 
notice  that  very  few  ladies  take  wine  in  Exile,  but  after 
your  drive  out  I  am  sure  you  are  tired." 

"It  is  too  hot  to  drink  wine  in  Exile  as  a  general 
rule,"  she  answered.  "But  I  think  I  should  be  glad  of 
some  to-night." 

"Champagne?" 

"I  should  prefer  it." 

He  had  ordered  it  beforehand,  and  had  it  put  on  the 
ice  that  came  out  from  the  ice  factory  at  Reserve.  The 


174  EXILE 

golden  wine  frothed  in  the  cut  glasses  like  blood  in  the 
veins  of  a  god,  and  she  sipped  it  as  if  she  enjoyed  it, 
without  affectation  or  any  demur.  Suddenly  she  leant 
across  the  table  towards  him,  the  glass  in  her  hand. 

"Will  you  please  wish  me  happiness?"  she  said. 

If  the  Sphinx  had  awakened  from  its  long  silence 
and  propounded  another  riddle  he  could  not  have  been 
more  mystified.  But  there  was  no  betrayal  in  his  face 
as  he  bowed  to  her,  and  stretching  out  his  hand  clashed 
his  glass  lightly  against  hers. 

"I  hope  you  have  not  kept  the  whole  of  your  good 
fortune  to  yourself,"  he  said.  "Surely  you  will  wish 
it  back  to  me !" 

"Everything  you  most  desire,"  she  said  with  the 
same  serenity.  "I  never  knew  a  better  phrase  than  that 
old  Biblical  beatitude,  'Grant  thee  thy  heart's  desire, 
and  fulfil  all  thy  wishes !'  " 

"The  difficulty  with  most  people  is  to  know  their 
heart's  desire,"  he  said  with  a  slight  shrug.  "So  many 
of  us  drop  the  first  treasure  clutching  at  the  second." 

"And  lose  both?"  she  said.  "I  am  a  very  single- 
minded  person.  I  have  never  hesitated  over  my  heart's 
desire." 

Was  she  thinking  of  that  letter,  fast  locked  in  his 
safe  upstairs?  Did  she  think  there  were  more  ways 
than  one  of  obtaining  it?  He  wondered  how  such  a 
woman  would  hold  a  revolver,  and  whether  those  white 
hands  would  falter  with  death  in  their  grip!  He 
thought  not.  '  There  was  a  certain  cold  suspicion  in 
his  face  turned  towards  her  now.  He  began  to  realise 
that,  despite  her  calm,  her  eyes  had  never  once  met  his. 
She  had  kept  them  indifferently  on  her  plate, — on  the 
menu,  on  the  room, — anywhere  but  on  him,  as  if  she 


EXILE  175 

knew  they  might  betray  her.  Even  now  she  was  look- 
ing at  the  flowers  with  a  little  softening  of  her  perfect 
face  into  most  tender  beauty. 

"One  needs  to  live  in  Exile  to  appreciate  jessamine 
and  lilies,"  she  said. 

"Haines  carried  some  off  last  night  to  give  to  Miss 
Play  fair,"  he  said  deliberately;  but  his  cold  grey  eyes 
lightened.  Here,  if  anywhere,  was  the  vulnerable  spot 
in  her  armour.  He  watched  her  covertly  to  see  if  that 
reference  at  least  would  not  touch  her. 

She  did  not,  apparently,  wince.  A  sudden  silence 
seemed  to  fall  upon  her,  and  wrap  her  in  a  deeper  mys- 
tery. Her  eyes,  beneath  those  thick  lashes  of  hers, 
seemed  to  muse  upon  the  flowers;  but  still  she  never 
raised  them. 

"Haines  is  so  hopelessly  in  love  that  he  could  hardly 
see  the  object  of  his  affections,"  he  went  on  harshly. 
"The  girl  would  probably  have  preferred  a  jack-in-the- 
box  or  a  peg-top, — anything  she  could  have  played 
with.  Who  wants  to  sit  down  and  contemplate  a  lily 
until  it  withers?  Certainly  not  Miss  Playfair!" 

"But  peg-tops  and  jack-in-the-boxes  are  not  obtain- 
able in  Exile,"  said  Claudia  Everard  with  gentle  irony. 
"He  might  perhaps  have  found  a  Japanese  toy  in  the 
bazaars,  if  you  think  it  would  have  pleased  her  better." 

"He  wasn't  thinking  of  what  would  please  her — he 
was  pleasing  himself  with  his  conception  of  her.  Peo- 
ple who  fall  in  love  generally  do  so  with  their  own 
ideal,  not  with  the  honest  reality." 

.  There  was  another  painful  pause.  He  felt  the  pain 
of  it  through  her  silence,  and  wondered  whether  Haines 
himself  had  guessed ! 

"Is  that  your  idea  of  falling  in  love?"  she  said  at 


176  EXILE 

last  with  a  fine  little  smile.  "It  is  not  mine.  The  ideal 
becomes  the  reality,  just  as  the  reality  merges  into  the 
ideal.  Love  is  a  touchstone  that  goes  beyond  impres- 
sions, and  reaches  the  thing  in  itself.  Ideal  and  real 
are  only  impressions." 

"You  go  too  deep  for  me !"  he  said,  hiding  a  vague 
discomfort  under  his  blunt  rebuff. 

"Anyhow,  I  do  not  think  we  need  fear  for  Mr. 
Haines.  Whatever  the  issue  I  think  he  is  gaining  a 
great  experience." 

"It  is  putting  something  into  his  music  that  was  not 
there  before,  anyhow,"  said  Hervey,  his  cold  eyes  light- 
ening. "Miss  Playfair  is  not  the  sort  of  girl  who 
suggests  inspiration,  but  she  is  having  that  effect  on 
Haines.  I  believe  she  is  musical  too.  I  have  not  heard 
her  sing  yet." 

"Have  you  not?"  said  Claudia  with  a  fine  little  smile 
playing  round  her  lips.  "She  sang  a  song  one  night  at 
Government  House  of  which  she  did  not  understand 
one  word — they  were  very  wonderful  words! — and 
then  she  very  nearly  sang  'Because'  when  Mr.  Merryn 
asked  her.  Mr.  Haines  just  stopped  that  perform- 
ance." 

Hervey  gave  a  short  laugh.  "The  French  version 
is  not  bad,"  he  said.  "It  is  the  maudlin  sentimentality 
of  the  English  that  has  damned  the  thing.  A  reference 
to  the  Deity  always  fetches  the  public,  or  the  cheerful 
statement  that  though  severed  on  earth  they  are  the 
more  certain  to  be  united  in  Heaven.  I  always  wonder 
why,  since  the  logical  conclusion  is  to  the  contrary." 

"It  annoys  me  so  when  people  make  appointments  to 
meet  you  in  Heaven  exactly  as  if  it  were  the  teashop 
round  the  corner!"  said  Claudia;  and  the  corners  of 


EXILE  177 

her  mouth  trembled  into  a  faint,  apologetic  smile,  as  if 
she  feared  she  had  been  a  trifle  drastic  over  Barbara's 
singing. 

"I  know.  'Behind  the  fifth  angel  on  the  right,  and 
don't  miss  the  seraphim,  please !'  I  believe  they  think 
the  angelic  choirs  will  take  the  place  of  the  band  at  the 
Carlton." 

She  rose — for  the  meal  was  finished — and  walked 
leisurely  before  him  into  the  further  room.  Here  their 
coffee  was  brought  to  them,  and  he  offered  her  a 
cigarette.  She  lit  and  smoked  it,  and  he  sat  and 
watched  her  with  half -closed  eyes.  There  was  some- 
thing piquant,  almost  bizarre,  in  this  armed  truce  be- 
tween them.  When  would  she  break  it  ?  Her  indiffer- 
ence, the  idle  fall  of  her  gown,  the  very  smoke  ascend- 
ing in  exquisite  spirals  from  the  cigarette,  seemed  to 
hedge  her  round  with  safety  and  left  him  at  a  disad- 
vantage. There  would  be  something  rude,  almost  ill- 
bred,  in  mentioning  the  letter  now  or  his  vile  sugges- 
tion. He  kept  an  obstinate  silence,  leaving  it  to  her  to 
break  down  her  own  reserve ;  but  she  never  spoke  of  it. 
They  talked  in  desultory  fashion  for  half-an-hour,  and 
had  it  not  been  for  the  impatient  expectancy  in  his  mind 
he  would  have  found  her  charming.  He  remembered 
that,  when  she  and  her  husband  first  came  to  Exile, 
he  had  known  them  fairly  well  for  a  short  time,  and 
Claudia  Everard  and  he  had  drifted  into  a  kind  of 
friendship.  Then  a  growing  distrust  of  the  Chief  Jus- 
tice had  made  him  go  less  and  less  to  the  house,  and 
the  finish  of  his  work  had  taken  the  initiative  from  him 
and  left  him  to  seek  distraction  in  worse  ways.  He  had 
begun  that  series  of  entanglements  that  had  ended  the 
other  day  with  Mrs.  Bride,  and  had  shunned  Mrs. 


178  EXILE 

Everard  because  he  had  asked  nothing  but  friendship 
from  her.  Gradually  the  baiting  of  women  became  less 
and  less  of  an  abstraction,  but  their  dance  of  death 
still  amused  him, — and  the  more  empty  and  unsatisfy- 
ing it  became  the  more  he  disliked  the  atmosphere  that 
seemed  to  hold  Claudia  Everard  aloof,  until  he  had 
come  to  hate  her.  The  various  stages  by  which  he  had 
arrived  at  his  present  state  of  mind  and  degrading  pur- 
pose drifted  across  his  memory  as  she  talked  to  him 
again  as  a  friend,  graciously  and  freely,  until  he  felt 
at  last  that  her  humiliation  was  the  only  thing  to  restore 
his  self-respect. 

A  deep-voiced  clock  somewhere  in  the  house  chimed 
ten,  and  Mrs.  Everard  turned  her  head  to  listen. 

"I  am  afraid  it  is  no  use  to  expect  my  husband  any 
longer,"  she  said.  "He  will  not  come  to-night." 

He  waited  patiently,  but  she  made  no  further  com- 
ment on  the  matter.  For  another  half-hour  she  talked 
on  indifferently,  and  then  rose  to  say  good-night  with 
the  same  unbroken  calm. 

"If  you  will  excuse  my  going  to  bed  so  early?"  she 
said  with  the  very  slightest  lift  of  that  entrancing  upper 
lip.  It  was  almost  too  slight  for  a  smile. 

"I  am  sure  you  must  be  tired  after  your  journey!" 
he  replied,  taking  her  cool,  unresponsive  hand  in  his. 

"It  is  so  good  of  you  to  put  me  up!  I  should  not 
have  slept  a  wink  over  the  way,  I  expect,"  she  laughed. 
"I  am  sure  the  beds  are  not  clean,  and  I  should  have 
fancied  that  the  Arabs  had  slept  in  them." 

"It  has  been  a  great  pleasure!"  he  said  with  fine 
irony. 

"Good-night!" 

She  turned  from  him  with  the  same  careless  grace, 


EXILE  179 

and  he  thought  he  had  never  seen  a  head  so  beautifully 
set  on  a  neck  as  hers.  Every  curve  of  her  was  as  per- 
fect as  a  statue's,  and  like  a  statue's  as  uncompelling. 
She  crossed  the  large  room  deliberately,  to  the  stair- 
case which  opened  upwards  from  its  further  end,  and 
then  as  deliberately  came  back.  He  was  still  standing 
where  she  had  left  him,  beside  a  little  table  that  held  a 
box  of  cigarettes,  ash-trays,  and  a  match-box.  She 
walked  up  to  this  table  and  laid  something  upon  it 
nearest  to  where  he  stood.  It  was  the  key  of  the  room 
he  had  assigned  to  her.  Then  without  the  least  droop 
of  her  eyelids  she  turned  away  again,  and  this  time 
really  ascended  the  stairs  and  left  him. 

Hervey  stood  absolutely  still,  looking  down  at  the 
key.  His  face  had  not  altered  any  more  than  hers, 
save  that  a  certain  excitement  had  come  into  his  eyes 
which  was  very  foreign  to  them.  He  thought  again  of 
those  small  white  hands  and  some  weapon.  .  .  .  Was 
that  what  she  meant  to  lure  him  on  to?  If  she  asked 
for  the  letter  first  he  would  know  at  once  what  to  ex- 
pect. His  feeling  now  was  not  any  desire  for  her — 
not  even  the  animal  desire  for  her  beauty — so  much  as 
the  excitement  of  portended  battle.  It  was  to  be  a  fight, 
fought  out  to  the  end — and  he  had  longed  for  a  fight, 
longed  to  use  the  maddening  flood  of  life  in  his  veins, 
to  test  his  strength.  He  looked  down  at  his  flat,  strong 
wrists,  like  bars  of  steel,  and  did  not  doubt  the  issue, 
even  though  she  held  loaded  death  in  her  hands.  Once 
let  him  get  within  reach,  she  had  no  chance.  But,  oh ! 
how  he  loved  the  excitement  of  the  struggle !  The  very 
uncertainty  of  what  was  coming  made  life  worth  living. 
He  could  have  shouted  with  joy  as  if  intoxicated.  The 
stultifying  effect  of  the  life  in  Exile  was  passing  from 


i8o  EXILE 

him,  for  this  hour  at  least ;  he  could  almost  have  blessed 
the  woman  for  the  adventure. 

It  struck  eleven  before  he  moved.  Then  he  picked 
up  the  key  and,  dropping  it  in  his  pocket,  went  up  to  his 
own  room.  Like  many  very  big  men  he  was  light  on 
his  feet,  and  he  hardly  woke  the  echoes  of  the  echoing 
house  as  he  passed  the  door  of  her  room  in  going  to 
his;  but  he  wondered  if  she  heard,  and  prepared  her- 
self. The  servants  had  all  gone  to  bed — he  had  put 
out  the  lights  downstairs  himself.  He  undressed  and 
bathed,  got  into  his  pyjamas,  and  then — listened.  There 
was  no  sound  in  the  next  room,  and  for  a  moment  he 
wondered  if  after  all  she  had  made  her  escape.  Then 
through  the  wall  he  heard  a  low  voice  singing — singing 
the  French  version  of  "Because" — 

"Lorsque  j'entends  ton  pas,  comme  en  un  reve, 
Le  folle  espoir  de  te  revoir  s'eleve 
Et  vainement  vers  toi  je  tends  les  bras — 
Quand  j'entends  ton  pas!" — 

Hervey  left  his  room  quietly  and  walked  out  into 
the  passage.  Her  door  was  only  a  few  yards  beyond, 
and  he  laid  his  hand  on  the  handle  and  turned  it.  It 
could  not  be  locked,  for  the  key  was  in  his  pocket.  He 
walked  straight  into  the  bedroom,  without  knocking, 
and  when  inside  he  put  the  key  in  the  lock  and  turned 
it,  so  that  they  were  locked  in  together.  If  she  had  a 
weapon  he  was  ready. 

Claudia  was  standing  on  the  other  side  of  the  room, 
brushing  out  her  thick,  soft  hair.  There  was  no  light 
save  the  long  bars  of  moonlight  through  the  opened 
jalousies,  but  the  white  blaze  showed  her  to  him  as 
plainly  as  by  day.  She  put  down  the  brush  on  the 


EXILE  181 

dressing-table  and,  flinging  back  the  mass  of  her  hair 
over  her  shoulders,  came  to  him  across  the  room. 
There  was  no  faltering  in  her  step,  but  as  she  neared 
him  he  did  not  recognise  her,  for  her  face  was  trans- 
figured. The  marble  whiteness  was  gone,  and  in  its 
place  was  a  rosy  flush  which  somehow  seemed  to  en- 
velop all  her  body  and  make  her  pulse  with  life.  There 
were  tears  in  her  eyes  hanging  on  those  dense  lashes, 
but  the  maddening  upper  lip  trembled  into  the  tenderest 
laughter.  As  she  reached  him  she  lifted  both  arms  and 
laid  them  round  his  neck,  putting  up  her  mouth  to  his 
like  a  child — but  he  was  too  tall  for  her,  and  did  not 
stoop  his  head  in  the  extremity  of  his  amazement. 

"Don't  you  understand  ?"  she  said  in  a  broken  whis- 
per. "I  love  you!" 

His  arms  had  folded  round  her  mechanically,  as  they 
might  have  done  round  a  child,  and  he  stood  holding 
her  as  if  he  did  not  know  what  in  pity  to  do  with  her. 
It  was  not  till  she  drew  his  head  down  to  hers  that  their 
lips  met,  and  then  he  began  to  tremble  and  pant  like 
some  wild  creature  first  trapped. 

"Are  you  making  a  fool  of  me?"  he  said  thickly; 
and  his  eyes  were  almost  murderous  with  the  fear  of 
losing  what  he  had  hardly  gained. 

"Look  at  me  and  see,"  she  answered  fearlessly, 
dropping  her  head  against  his  shoulder  with  a  little 
confiding  gesture  that  made  him  draw  her  savagely 
closer.  "Oh,  Richmond,  don't  be  so  stupid!  Can't 
you  understand?" 

"But "  he  stammered,  his  face  half -buried  in 

her  soft,  faint-scented  hair.  "No  woman  has  ever 
loved  me.  They  have  been  afraid  of  me,  and — and 
they  said  it  was  hypnotism,  but  never  love.  I  shouldn't 


182  EXILE 

know  what  to  do "  He  broke  off  with  a  half-angry 

laugh,  and  thrust  her  away  from  him.  "I  don't  believe 
it!" 

She  stood  quite  patiently,  waiting,  only  the  little 
smile  in  her  eyes  that  were  raised  to  his.  And  as  sud- 
denly as  he  had  let  her  go  he  caught  her  again,  gripping 
her  in  his  arms  so  that  he  hurt  her  and  she  caught  her 
breath.  "Make  a  fool  of  me  if  you  like,  but  let  me 
believe  it !"  he  said.  "For  God's  sake  let  me  believe  it ! 
Tell  me  every  beautiful  lie  you  can  think  of,  and  kiss 
me  as  if  you  meant  it,  or  I  shall  go  mad  and  kill  you." 

"I  should  not  mind  if  you  did,"  she  said  in  a  low 
voice.  "So  long  as  it  was  you." 

And  then  there  was  a  sudden  silence,  and  had  they 
listened  they  would  have  heard  the  great  free  winds  of 
the  desert  blowing  through  the  moonlight.  It  was  very 
light  in  the  outside  world,  and  even  the  garden  was 
only  barred  with  black  and  silver  as  the  wind  swung 
the  shadows  of  the  date-palms  over  the  white  walls  of 
the  bungalow.  The  palms  made  a  curious  insistent 
noise,  like  the  rustle  of  stiff  silk.  But  the  man  and 
woman  in  the  locked  room  saw  and  heard  nothing 
save  each  other.  Looking  down  at  her  as  she  stood  in 
the  jealous  circle  of  his  arms,  he  saw  that  her  eyelids 
were  drooping  as  one  on  the  verge  of  happy  sleep,  and 
beneath  her  lashes  the  colour  of  her  eyes  was  as  deep 
as  wine. 

"Claudia,  it  isn't  all  a  dream,  is  it?" 

She  opened  her  eyes  fully  at  that,  and  her  expression 
was  rather  grave.  "You  mustn't  think  that,"  she  said 
earnestly.  "I  want  you  to  feel  sure.  Of  course  it  is 
all  new  and  strange  to  you,  but  I  have  known  it  for 
two  years." 


EXILE  183 

"But  you  couldn't  have  cared  for  me  all  that  time! 
Not  from  the  first?" 

"Yes,  soon  after  we  came  here.  I  didn't  understand 
what  it  was  at  first,  and  it  made  me  very  unhappy. 
Then  it  seemed  to  take  possession  of  me,  and  I  gave  up 
struggling.  It  was  as  if  a  god  suddenly  entered  an 
empty  shrine.  I  had  only  to  hide  my  face  and  worship. 
Only,  I  thought  you  would  never  know." 

"I  ought  to  have  known.  Look  what  I  have  missed 
for  two  years!  Why  didn't  you  tell  me? — somehow." 

"Why,  I  have  been  telling  you,  with  every  breath  I 
drew  1"  He  heard  her  low  tender  laughter  in  the  moon- 
lit darkness,  and  drew  his  lips  lingeringly  over  her 
throat  and  neck.  "And  then  there  were — the  others," 
she  said  with  a  rather  troubled  breath.  "I  never  knew 
that  you  might  not  really  care  for  one  of  them  some 
day." 

"Don't !"  He  winced  a  little.  "I  know  I  deserve  it, 
but  now  that  I  have  found  you  and  love  together  it 
seems  impossible  that — I  could." 

Again  she  laughed  a  little,  with  the  half-sad  tender- 
ness one  gives  to  a  child.  "You  think  you  love  me?" 
she  said  very  gently. 

"Give  me  time  to  prove  it — only  time!" 

"Oh,  Ritchie,"  she  said  almost  pityingly,  "you  don't 
know  the  A.  B.  C.  of  love  yet!  Some  day  you  will 
look  back,  and — but  I  could  only  reach  you  this  way. 
You  couldn't  understand  another  language — yet.  And 
some  day  everything  will  take  its  proper  place." 

"I  am  ready  to  learn,"  he  said  almost  humbly. 
"Only,  don't  let  soul  quench  sense — I'm  too  human." 

"Sense  is  just  as  divine,"  she  said  quietly,  and  her 
arm  clasped  him  reassuringly  with  a  little  soft  pressure. 


184  EXILE 

"What  iron  muscles!  It  is  as  if  your  strength  had 
become  materialised." 

"Did  I  hurt  you  ?  You  must  blame  your  own  sweet- 
ness. And  I  never  knew — I  never  guessed " 

"Why  did  you  ask  me  to  come  to  you  if  you  did 
not  love  me?"  she  said  a  little  wonderingly.  "I  was 
nearly  breathless  that  day ;  it  came  like  a  streak  of  light 
— the  chance  of  my  life.  I  dared  not  look  at  you,  or 
you  would  have  seen." 

"I  suppose  I  always  loved  you,"  he  said  slowly, 
"and  it  was  that  that  made  me  so  angry.  I  wanted  to 
break  down  your  reserve — even  to  hurt  you,  and  to 
make  you  suffer,  if  I  could  only  force  you  to  feel." 

"You  thought  I  should  refuse!" 

"I  thought  you  would  denounce  me — turn  on  me — 
tell  me  what  a  cur  I  was.  Even  this  evening  I  won- 
dered— well,  I  wondered  if  you  had  a  weapon !" 

"Ritchie!" 

"And  then  you  came  across  the  room  like  that — 
one  glow — ripe  for  me  and  love.  Claudia !  say  it  just 
once  more.  I  can't  believe  it  yet." 

And  she  put  her  lips  to  his  and  formed  the  words 
"I — love — you"  slowly,  between  the  kisses. 


CHAPTER  X 

"Look  down,  dear  eyes,  look  down, 

Lest  you  betray  her  gladness. 
Dear  brows,  do  nought  but  frown, 
Lest  men  miscall  my  madness." 

W.  E.  HENLEY. 

T  T  had  been  arranged  between  them  that  she  should 
•••  go  home  after  breakfast,  before  the  heat  of  the 
day.  A  messenger  was  to  come  from  the  Fort  with 
any  chits  that  might  have  arrived,  and  she  had  made 
certain  the  day  before  that  there  should  be  an  envelope 
in  her  husband's  handwriting.  Then  it  would  be  easy 
to  say  that  he  had  changed  his  plans  and  was  not  stay- 
ing at  the  Half-way  House,  and  Othman  could  order 
her  car  and  be  cognisant  of  the  whole  affair. 

They  had  parted  at  dawn,  but  they  met  at  the  break- 
fast table  with  a  new  and  deep  content  in  their  eyes. 
The  servants  did  not  wait,  and  as  soon  as  they  were 
alone  he  laid  his  hands  on  her  shoulders  and  looked 
down  into  her  face  with  a  long  hungry  gaze,  as  if  he 
would  lose  no  line  of  its  beauty. 

"I  do  not  think  I  can  part  from  you,"  he  said. 

"I  think  you  must;  there  is  your  work  to  consider, 
and  your  position.  I  will  not  do  you  the  least  harm 
if  any  sacrifice  can  avoid  it." 

"But  you  forget  that  you  are  sacrificing  me,  too. 
Claudia,  when  will  you  come  to  me  again?" 

185 


186  EXILE 

"I  do  not  know."  The  brightness  of  her  face  fade.1 
a  little,  and  her  eyes  were  troubled. 

"You  know,  of  course,  that  this  cannot  go  on.  I 
must  have 'you  entirely.  There  is  no  question  about 
that?"  He  spoke  with  the  full  force  of  his  will  behind 
the  quiet  words. 

"Then  I  think  we  must  go  home.  There  would  be 
less  scandal  in  Europe.  I  am  afraid  that — yesterday — 
I  hardly  looked  beyond  the  moment.  It  seemed  as  if 
the  world  ended  there !" 

"When  you  blush  like  that  you  make  me  think  of  a 
rose  on  fire,"  he  said,  and  his  voice  was  not  quite  steady. 
"Tell  me  when  to  throw  up  my  appointment  here,  or 
to  take  leave,  and  I  can  be  ready  in  twenty-four  hours." 

"I  must  think," — she  said  a  little  pleadingly.  "I 
must  think  doubly  for  you,  as  I  see  you  will  not  for 
yourself." 

"What  does  it  matter?  Nothing  matters  now,  so 
long  as  you  do  not  repent."  His  hands  on  her  shoul- 
ders grew  heavier,  and  he  looked  hard  into  her  face. 
"You  do  not  repent,  do  you  ?"  he  said  hurriedly. 

She  looked  up  in  sheer  amazement,  her  face  glorified 
again  by  that  curious  radiance  that  had  dazzled  him  last 
night.  "Repent !"  she  said  slowly.  "I  do  not  think  I 
could  find  it  in  my  heart  to  repent,  even  if  it  injured 
you  with  the  world,  and  that  is  the  only  thing  that 
could  trouble  me.  It  cannot  injure  us  in  any  other 
way  so  long  as  it  is  love  and  not  lust.  I  feel  as  if  one 
half  of  me  had  been  wanting  all  my  life  and  I  had  just 
become  complete.  One  cannot  repent  of  that!" 

"I  never  saw  eyes  quite  like  yours  before!"  he  said 
suddenly.  "I  used  to  think  they  were  wine-coloured. 
I  suppose  it  is  because  they  are  both  violet  and  brown." 


EXILE  187 

"Do  let  us  have  breakfast !"  said  Claudia,  laughing. 
"I  am  growing  so  nervous  with  being  criticised  that 
it  is  taking  my  appetite  away."  Then  as  he  stooped  to 
kiss  her  she  added  in  a  whisper,  "Ritchie,  doesn't  it 
seem  natural,  our  being  here  like  this?" 

"Do  you  feel  that?"  he  answered  quickly.  "I  think 
we  must  have  been  living  together  in  some  double  life 
from  infinity.  I  know  all  your  tastes — come  and  sit 
next  me,  and  don't  put  the  table  between  us  as  it  was 
last  night." 

It  was  a  merry  meal,  and  a  very  happy  one,  nor  did 
either  of  them  find  that  they  did  not  want  to  eat. 
People  who  commit  conventional  sins  are  only  threat- 
ened with  conventional  punishment,  and  just  as  far  as 
they  are  afraid  of  such  consequences  they  will  suffer. 
But  you  cannot  try  Love  in  a  court  of  law,  or  make 
him  subject  to  the  statute-book.  Lust  indeed  may 
incur  a  fine  and  suffer  social  ostracism;  but  Love 
laughs  at  such  hindrances,  as  he  does  at  marriage. 
The  only  penalty  that  can  be  inflicted  on  him  is  the 
sacrifice  of  body  and  soul  on  an  altar  that  is  not  his, 
an  outrage  of  Nature  that  avenges  itself  daily. 

"You  said  you  liked  the  flowers  last  night,"  Hervey 
said,  when,  their  meal  finished,  they  strolled  into  the 
further  rooms  to  wait  for  Mrs.  Everard's  car  and  to 
smoke  cigarettes.  "Will  you  take  some  back  with  you  ? 
I  should  like  to  give  you  as  many  as  you  can  carry." 
And  then  he  marvelled  at  himself,  for  he  remembered 
what  he  had  said  of  Haines.  Only  twenty-four  hours, 
and  lo !  he  was  doing  the  very  same  thing,  and  finding 
flowers  an  appropriate  gift  with  which  to  fill  the 
hands  of  his  lady. 

"I  should  love  them,"  said  Claudia;  and  then  she 


i88  EXILE 

added  demurely,  "But  are  you  sure  that  you  would  not 
rather  give  me  a  peg-top  or  a  jack-in-the-box — some- 
thing that  I  could  play  with?" 

"Did  you  remember  that?  So  did  I — and  I  thought 
what  a  fool  I  was  not  to  understand  Haines,  though 
you  must  allow  that  you  are  not  in  the  least  like  Miss 
Play  fair.  I  want  to  give  you  flowers,  and  jewels,  and 
the  richest  silks  that  can  be  bought — everything  that  is 
beautiful!" 

"And  material !"  she  added  quietly.  "Dear  Ritchie, 
give  me  something  better.  Flowers  are  always  wel- 
come, they  seem  to  me  symbolical.  But  for  your  jewels 
I  will  have  patient  service,  and  for  your  silks  trust  and 
faith." 

"But  don't  you  see  that  they  mean  the  same  thing 
to  men?"  he  pleaded.  "We  are  very  clumsy,  but  we 
want  to  express  our  devotion  that  way — we  want  to 
give." 

She  flushed  that  sudden  intoxicating  colour  all  over 
the  dead  whiteness  of  her  skin.  "I  ought  to  under- 
stand," she  said  in  a  lower  tone.  "I  also  wanted  to 
give,  however  material  the  gift." 

He  drew  her  against  him  for  a  moment,  holding  her 
so  that  she  felt  the  heavy  throbbing  of  his  heart  under 
his  broad  chest.  "It  means  so  much  to  me !"  he  said 
rather  pitifully.  "It  means  that  you  are  my  woman 
and  I  am  your  man.  I  am  afraid  I  shouldn't  believe 
you  loved  me  without  it — not  one  man  in  a  hundred 
would!" 

"I  know.  That  was  why  I  gave — partly.  Oh,  don't 
think  it  means  nothing  to  me,  or  that  it  is  not  a — 
pleasure."  The  word  came  bravely,  but  the  clear  red 


EXILE  189 

blood  ran  up  even  to  the  golden  hair.  "Only,  it  isn't 
everything." 

Perhaps  he  could  not  quite  follow  her  as  faithfully 
as  he  wished,  for  he  changed  the  subject.  "I  forgot," 
he  said,  and  while  he  still  held  her  he  drew  an  envelope 
from  his  pocket.  "Here  is  the  letter  you  asked  for." 

He  watched  her  while  she  took  and  held  it  indif- 
ferently. "It  was  the  means  to  an  end,"  she  said 
quietly.  "Not  the  end  from  the  means.  But  perhaps 
I  had  better  take  it.  I  do  not  like  to  see  the  fear  that 
this  caused,  in  any  human  being." 

"I  ought  to  tell  you  that  it  is  not  the  only  danger 
threatening  Everard,"  he  said  slowly.  "Had  that  letter 
been  made  public,  what  he  feared  was  the  Arab  popu- 
lation, and  I  know  he  had  cause.  But  there  is  a  Peti- 
tion gone  home  to  the  Colonial  Secretary  praying  for 
inquiry  into  certain  charges  against  him,  which  must 
end  in  investigation.  It  may  be  a  longer  process  than 
the  native  rising  which  would  have  wreaked  its  ven- 
geance on  him,  but  it  is  bound  to  come.  If  he  does  not 
know  of  this  you  had  better  tell  him." 

She  did  not  look  startled,  only  a  little  graver.  "Yes, 
I  will  tell  him,"  she  said.  "I  have  been  hoping  that  he 
would  go  home — that  the  scandal  might  be  avoided 
somehow." 

She  moved  away  from  him  swiftly  as  the  sound  of 
the  car  fell  on  her  ears,  and  a  minute  later  Othman  an- 
nounced its  appearance.  Then  she  went  up  to  her  room 
to  cloak  and  veil  herself,  and  in  a  few  minutes  returned, 
the  same  grey,  mysterious  figure  of  her  arrival  last 
night. 

"Good-bye!"  she  said  composedly,  offering  him  her 
hand  in  the  presence  of  several  of  the  servants  who 


190  EXILE 

i 

were  in  waiting.  "I  am  sorry  to  have  trespassed  on 
you  in  my  husband's  name;  it  was  so  stupid  of  me  to 
make  a  mistake  about  his  plans — but  I  am  very  glad  I 
came." 

The  secret  daring  of  the  words  almost  made  him 
smile.  She  had  the  advantage  under  her  veil,  and  he 
would  have  liked  to  see  the  shining  of  the  deep-coloured 
eyes,  the  lift  of  her  pretty  upper  lip.  "It  is  I  who  am 
in  your  debt  for  a  delightful  evening,"  he  said  courte- 
ously. "You  saved  me  from  my  own  company.  If 
Mr.  Everard  does  decide  to  break  the  journey  here, 
will  you  let  me  know  ?" 

"I  expect  he  will  come  straight  through — when  he 
does  come,"  she  said  evasively.  "Good-bye!" 

He  followed  her  out  to  the  car  and  helped  her  in, 
his  hand  for  one  moment  on  her  waist,  but  he  did  not 
risk  a  private  word,  for  he  knew  in  his  own  mind  that 
he  meant  to  see  her  again  very  soon,  with  more  oppor- 
tunity for  intimate  speech.  Then  there  was  the  whir- 
ring of  the  starter — it  was  a  hired  car,  and  old-fash- 
ioned— and  she  was  rolling  out  of  sight  away  into  the 
desert,  soon  a  mere  speck  on  the  grey-toned  sands. 
But  the  face  of  all  the  world  had  changed  since  her 
advent. — 

Claudia  leaned  back  in  her  seat  tranquilly,  mind  and 
body  at  peace.  She  had  neither  scruples  nor  qualms, 
which  belong  to  lesser  experiences,  and  the  great  forces 
of  her  passion  seemed  to  have  swept  ordinary  consider- 
ations aside.  The  merely  titular  claim  of  the  man  who 
was  her  husband  had  never  weighed  with  her,  since 
she  was  to  her  own  mind  no  more  than  his  house- 
keeper; the  restrictions  of  a  conventional  morality  and 
a  social  verdict  only  mattered  so  far  as  they  affected 


EXILE  191 

Hervey  and  must  be  safeguarded  only  on  his  account. 
As  far  as  she  was  herself  concerned  she  would  have 
walked  out  of  her  husband's  house,  and  gone  with 
Hervey  to  the  ends  of  the  earth  at  a  moment's  notice; 
but  she  was  as  careful  for  his  future  as  she  might  have 
been  for  her  own  son's.  She  wanted  time  for  consider- 
ation, as  she  had  told  him — time  to  weigh  the  draw- 
backs of  a  divorce,  the  scandal  that  would  ensue,  and 
the  necessity  of  his  leaving  Exile  on  her  account.  His 
work  there  was  really  finished,  but  he  might  have 
looked  for  acknowledgment  from  his  Government,  and 
even  honours.  Influential  men  spoke  of  a  K.C.M.G. 
for  him  when  he  should  go  home,  and  an  important 
post.  Both  these  he  must  relinquish  for  a  life  with 
her.  She  was  jealous  for  him,  and  would  fain  have 
contrived  that  he  should  "eat  his  cake  and  have  it" 
after  the  manner  of  women.  The  masculine  mind  is 
generally  more  philosophic  with  regard  to  the  limita- 
tions of  the  proverb.  Anyhow,  it  required  thinking 
over. 

When  Mrs.  Everard  arrived  at  her  own  bungalow 
she  was  informed  that  Mr.  Murgatroyd  had  rung  her 
up  last  evening  after  she  had  started  for  the  Half-way 
House,  and  that  he  would  call  this  afternoon  if  she 
would  see  him.  There  was  no  necessity  to  telephone  if 
she  would  be  in.  Claudia  turned  a  little  cold  as  she 
faced  some  new  communication  from  her  husband,  and 
realised  the  possibility  of  Murgatroyd  following  her 
out  last  night.  That  he  had  not  done  so  seemed  a  grace 
of  Providence.  She  sat  down  to  wait  and  compose  her 
nerves. 

He  came  at  five  and  found  her  awaiting  him,  unal- 
tered to  her  own  consciousness,  but  with  a  new  flushed 


192  EXILE 

beauty  that  kept  his  bewildered  gaze  on  her.  He  was 
always  prone  to  sit  and  watch  her  out  of  cavernous 
eyes,  and  she  had  grown  used  to  it  as  one  grows  used 
to  the  patient  attendance  of  a  dog;  but  to-day  he  could 
not  if  he  would  have  removed  his  gaze  from  the  won- 
der of  her  face.  Her  eyes  seemed  brimful  of  tender- 
ness for  all  the  world,  and  to  include  even  him  in  their 
wide  radiance.  He  sat  and  basked  in  it,  dazedly,  like 
some  poor  insect  long  denied  the  sun. 

"Well,  Stanley !"  she  said  kindly,  looking  up  at  his 
pallid,  emaciated  face.  "Any  news?" 

"Edgar  wrote  yesterday — very  urgently.  He  wants 
to  know  if  you  have  accomplished  anything;  he  must 
return  before  the  court  sits,  or — or  go  further  away." 
He  lowered  his  voice  and  spoke  almost  hoarsely  in  his 
excitement.  "He  is  so  unreasonable!"  he  burst  out, 
still  in  that  suppressed  voice.  "He  is  wrong  to  set  you 
such  a  task.  I  told  him  it  was  impossible  for  you  or 
any  human  being  to  get  that  letter." 

"But  I  have  got  the  letter!" 

He  remained  staring  down  at  her  from  his  great 
height — for  he  looked  taller  than  he  was  owing  to  being 
so  thin — without  attempting  to  sit  down.  His  eyes 
seemed  to  recede  until  they  became  mere  pinpoints  of 
incredulity  and  suspicion.  He  seemed  stricken  dumb, 
and  yet  he  was  still  distracted  by  her  new  beauty  even 
from  the  shock  of  her  words. 

"Sit  down,  Stanley,  and  I  will  tell  you  about  it," 
she  said  kindly.  She  had  decided  on  what  she  must 
say,  and  how  explain  her  possession  of  the  letter.  "I 
went  out  to  Half-way  House  yesterday  under  the  ex- 
cuse of  meeting  Edgar — really  to  get  speech  with  Mr. 
Hervey.  He  gave  up  the  letter,  but  he  warned  me  that 


EXILE  193 

there  is  a  new  danger  on  foot — one  he  seems  to  con- 
sider as  unavoidable, — a  Petition  to  have  Edgar's  judg- 
ments inquired  into.  Have  you  heard  of  it?" 

"No !    But  how  did  you " 

"He  admitted  that  Edgar  was  unpopular  with  the 
Arabs,  but  he  seemed  to  think  this  inquiry  a  more  cer- 
tain disaster  for  him.  Stanley,  what  are  we  to  do  ?" 

He  did  not  answer,  save  by  another  question.  He 
still  looked  bewildered. 

"But  you  have  got  the  letter?" 

"Yes,  I  have  got  the  letter,  but  after  all  Edgar's  fear 
may  have  exaggerated  its  effects  in  Exile.  The  Petition 
is  a  slower  method  of  being  revenged  on  him,  but  I 
think  the  Europeans  will  carry  it  through." 

"If  you  have  got  the  letter  Edgar  will  not  care — 
he  will  snap  his  fingers  in  the  face  of  their  Petition, 
and  come  back  and  carry  the  cases  through." 

"Oh,  Stanley,  he  must  not!"  Her  face  altered  into 
real  distress.  "He  must  be  made  to  understand  how 
serious  it  is — I  hoped  he  would  go  home." 

"Not  before  he  has  got  rid  of  Azeopardi.  He  has 
vowed  to  clear  Hassan's  way  and  his  own — he  will 
get  control  of  the  silk  trade  whatever  happens." 

She  was  silent  for  a  minute,  thinking.  "Perhaps  he 
had  better  come  back,  and  I  can  talk  to  him  myself.  I 
can  generally  make  him — understand,"  she  said  with 
unintentional  irony. 

Murgatroyd  did  not  answer,  but  sat  looking  at  her 
still  under  the  shadow  oi  his  hand,  which  he  held  over, 
his  eyes  as  if  to  screen  them  from  the  glare  of  the  out- 
side world,  for  the  shutters  were  wide  open.  There 
was  something  almost  sinister  in  this  scrutiny,  or  she 


194  EXILE 

fancied  so,  and  she  said  almost  sharply,  "Will  you  tele- 
graph for  me?" 

He  started  as  if  caught  dreaming,  and  appeared  as 
nervous  as  she.  "Oh,  certainly,"  he  said  hastily,  taking 
a  note-book  from  his  pocket.  "In  code,  of  course." 

"No,  I  think  not.  It  looks  more  suspicious.  We 
must  not  lose  a  point.  Simply  put  that  we  are  expecting 
him  to-morrow,  or  next  day,  and  add  'Please  confirm/ 
He  will  understand  that,  and  it  will  only  look  as  if  you 
wanted  to  be  sure  of  some  arrangement  already  made 
by  letter." 

He  was  busy  writing  the  message  to  her  suggestion ; 
but  suddenly  he  flung  the  book  on  to  the  table  and 
started  up,  surprising  her  so  that  she  nearly  rose  also. 

"He  ought  never  to  have  dragged  you  into  this !"  he 
said,  with  a  criticism  of  the  Chief  Justice  very  unlike 
himself.  "He  ought  at  least  to  have  kept  one  thing 
sacred.  Why  were  you  sent  out  to  that  man  to  run  the 
risk  of  being  thought  privy  to  it?  Why " 

"All  Exile  will  think  me  privy  to  it,  Stanley, — they 
probably  think  so  now !" 

"It — is  not  a  business  for  women,"  he  said  inco- 
herently. "If  Edgar  chooses  to  take  risks  that  is 
another  thing;  he  has  a  great  stake.  I  do  not  blame 
him!"  he  added  defiantly,  but  when  had  he  ever  blamed 
Everard?  "He  ought  anyhow  to  have  screened  you." 

She  looked  at  him  with  that  same  surprise,  wonder- 
ing at  his  agitation.  She  had  never  known  Murga- 
troyd  so  self-assertive  before  in  his  own  opinion, 
though  he  could  uphold  Everard's.  "It  does  not  mat- 
ter," she  said  quietly.  "Perhaps  he  will  let  me  go 
home." 

"Yes"— he  caught  eagerly  at  the  word.    "He  ought 


EXILE  195 

to  send  you  home  before  there  can  be  any  unpleasant- 
ness for  you.  I  shall  tell  him  so !" 

"You !"  she  said  with  a  little  gentle  mockery.  "Why, 
Stanley,  he  would  argue  you  out  of  your  opinion  in 
five  minutes,  and  prove  himself  in  the  right  and  you  in 
the  wrong.  When  have  you  ever  been  able  to  hold 
your  own  with  Edgar?" 

"Never — till  now,"  he  agreed  unexpectedly.  "He  al- 
ways seems  so  right.  But  in  this  I  am  sure  that  he  is 
not  right,  and  I  can  stand  to  my  colours  when  I  have  a 
strong  enough  motive.  You  shall  see."  He  rose  to 
take  his  leave,  but  lingered  a  minute  looking  at  the 
bowl  of  jessamine  and  goldmore  blossoms  on  the  table. 
"What  beautiful  flowers!"  he  said  gently.  "I  never 
realised  how  one  misses  them  in  a  room.  And  they 
look  so  right  here,  with  you."  She  did  not  answer, 
save  by  encircling  the  bowl  with  her  hands  and  drawing 
it  to  her  as  if  she  drew  a  precious  memory.  "Is  it  the 
flowers  that  have  made  you  so  happy?"  he  said. 

"Happy !"  she  echoed  a  little  startled,  and  the  blood 
rushed  up  over  her  pale  face.  "Do  I  look  so — happy  ?" 

"I  have  never  seen  you  quite  like  this,"  he  said ;  and 
she  thought  his  voice  was  not  steady.  "There  is  some- 
thing so  wonderful — something  in  your  face.  I 
thought  I  knew  every  line  of  it — I  come  here  so  much, 
you  see — and  now  it  seems  that  I  never  knew  it  at  all." 

She  bent  her  face  above  the  flowers  as  if  to  hide  it 
and  touch  them  with  her  lips  unknown  to  him.  "I  am 
of  course  very  relieved  about  Edgar,"  she  said  with  an 
effort.  "And — yes! — the  flowers  were  a  great  pleas- 
ure!" 

"Hervey  gave  them  to  you?" 

"He  told  his  butler  to  cut  me  a  bunch." 


196  EXILE 

"I  wish  7  had  given  them  to  you — to  bring  that  look 
into  your  face  they  must  have  given  you  such  intense 
pleasure !"  he  said  a  little  wildly. 

She  was  dumb.  Had  any  other  man  given  her  the 
jessamine  and  goldmore  blossoms  they  would  have  been 
just  flowers — lovely  in  themselves,  and  welcome  in 
Exile,  nothing  more.  She  realised  that  what  she  had 
said  was  true — flowers  were  symbolical  to  her,  given 
by  Richmond  Hervey, — they  were  not  among  his  usual 
gifts  to  women.  When  she  looked  up  Murgatroyd  had 
gone.  The  removal  of  his  long,  dank  presence  was  a 
relief,  especially  with  that  oddness  in  his  manner.  She 
wondered  if  she  had  betrayed  herself,  and  rising  went 
to  the  mirror  to  look.  It  reflected  the  same  dull  gold 
crown  of  hair,  oval  face,  and  proud  sweet  beauty;  but 
the  eyes  were  full  of  a  radiance  that  was  almost 
shamed,  the  lips  said  "Kiss  me !"  to  an  absent  lover,  the 
blood  came  and  went  at  his  bidding  even  in  memory. 
She  saw  her  secret  triumphantly  confessed  in  every 
line  of  her  likeness  in  the  mirror,  as  if  love  had  already 
crowned  her.  With  a  sound  between  a  laugh  and  a 
cry  she  hid  her  face  in  her  hands. 

"That  is  the  woman  that  he  loves!"  she  said. 


CHAPTER  XI 

"Our  life  is  like  a  curious  play 

Where  each  man  acteth  to  himself. 
'Let  us  be  open  as  the  day !' 
One  mask  doth  to  another  say, 

That  he  may  deeper  hide  himself. 
('Let  us  be  open  as  the  day!' 

That  he  may  deeper  hide  himself.) 
And  so  the  world  goes  round  and  round, 
Until  our  life  with  rest  is  crowned — 

Ah,  well  is  thee  thou  art  asleep !" 

ANON. 

THE  Chief  Justice  returned  the  next  day.  tjis 
motor  car  ran  straight  into  the  Fort,  without 
stopping  at  Half-way  House  or  in  the  village  for  water. 
It  was  generally  necessary  to  carry  both  water  and 
petrol  in  the  desert,  as  well  as  lubricating  oil,  and  if 
the  passengers'  own  strength  could  stand  it  there  was 
nothing  to  prevent  cars  running  through,  though  they 
started  at  daybreak  to  get  in  at  night.  Usually  it  was 
the  travellers  who  broke  down,  and  not  the  automo- 
biles. Those  hours,  end  on  end,  in  the  intensity  of  the 
desert  were  trying  to  anything  like  sensitive  nerves 
or  a  weak  constitution.  People  stopped  at  Hassan's 
because  the  last  ten  miles  were  intolerable,  as  much 
as  to  feed  the  car.  But  the  Chief  Justice  was  made  of 
iron  as  far  as  bodily  ailments  went.  The  irony  of  his 
leave  at  Health  had  been  patent  to  half  Exile  when 
he  went  out  there  "for  a  necessary  change."/  He  could 

197 


198  EXILE 

sit  five  days  a  week  all  the  year  round  and  not  feel  it. 

In  the  dusk  of  the  evening  he  came  once  more,  enter- 
ing his  bungalow  less  like  a  thief  than  he  had  left  if, 
but  with  uncertainty  still  in  his  watching  eyes  and  head 
turned  over  his  shoulder.  Claudia  met  him  on  his 
entrance,  and  he  could  hardly  wait  the  departure  of 
the  servants  from  the  room  to  hear  her  news. 

"Well  ?"  he  said  feverishly.  "Stanley  wired  me  that 
you  were  expecting  me.  That  can  only  mean  one 
thing.  You  would  not  expect  me  as  long  as  there  was 
danger  in  my  return.  Well?" 

"I  have  got  the  letter,  Edgar." 

"Do  you  mean  that — that  Hervey — gave  it  up  to 
you  ?"  He  stammered  in  his  excitement. 

"Yes." 

"It  isn't  the  right  one  then;  he  has  made  a  fool  of 
you!"  he  broke  out  suddenly,  with  a  bitter  disappoint- 
ment that  made  her  look  at  him  curiously.  She  won- 
dered if  he  were  going  to  cry.  His  absolute  indiffer- 
ence to  others'  welfare  so  long  as  his  own  was  assured 
had  always  made  him  invulnerable,  since  he  had  se- 
cured his  own  by  all  the  talent  granted  him.  But  now 
that  old  fortification  was  down  he  seemed  like  a  child, 
with  a  child's  want  of  settled  purpose. 

"No,  it  is  your  letter.  I  have  read  it,"  she  said 
slowly. 

"But  why  did  he  give  it  up?  What  did  he  want 
in  return?  What  am  I  to  pay  him?  How  slow  you 
are  in  answering,  Claudia!"  He  was  almost  in  a 
frenzy,  leaning  his  hands  upon  the  table  between  them, 
his  convulsed  face  thrust  towards  hers.  She  was  look- 
ing at  him  with  a  slow  wonder  that  ever,  years  ago, 
she  could  have  thought  him  handsome.  The  narrow- 


EXILE  199 

ness  of  the  face  and  the  sensual  lips  seemed  to  take 
from  it  any  advantage  of  the  straight,  thin  features 
and  brilliant,  near-set  eyes.  Yet  there  were  many  peo- 
ple who  admitted  that  the  Chief  Justice  was  hand- 
some, whatever  their  opinion  of  him.  His  wife  sud- 
denly saw  that  his  face  was  ugly. 

"He  did  not  ask  any  concessions  either  in  Reserve 
or  Fort,"  she  said  dully.  "He  would  not  listen  to  a 
bribe  of  money.  Do  you  not  see  that  he  could  not?" 
she  asked  with  slow  scorn. 

"Oh,  you  mean  it  would  have  been  dangerous,  in 
turn,  for  him !  But  he  had  us  in  a  wedge — we  could 
not  have  used  it  against  him.  He  might  have  made 
what  terms  he  liked !"  He  spoke  almost  with  a  gasp, 
and  she  realised  that  he  was  putting  himself  in  Her- 
vey's  place  and  thinking  what  he  could  have  done  him- 
self— how  he  could  have  wrung  concessions,  and 
ground  the  last  ounce  out  of  a  victim  so  at  his  mercy 
as  he  had  been  at  Hervey's. 

"He  did  not  set  so  much  value  on  the  letter  as  you 
did ;  he  does  not  understand  bodily — fear !"  said  Clau- 
dia. Her  lips  felt  a  little  stiff,  and  she  wondered  if 
this  lesson  that  she  had  carefully  taught  herself 
sounded  as  unnatural  as  it  did  to  her.  "There  is  a 
Petition  gone  home  to  the  Colonial  Secretary  praying 
for  inquiry  into  certain  charges  against  you.  He 
warned  me  of  it.  Edgar,  did  you  know?  He  seemed 
to  think  it  more  final  for  you  than  the  letter." 

But  he  laughed,  loudly  and  mirthlessly,  as  Murga- 
troyd  had  said  he  would.  "Let  them  petition  as  much 
as  they  please!"  he  said.  "It  will  be  months  before 

anything  is  done,  and  by  that  time  I It  was  the 

letter  that  might  have  destroyed  me,  here,  now,  on  the 


200  EXILE 

spot" — and  he  shuddered.  "Have  you  got  it  there?" 
he  added  hastily. 

She  drew  the  envelope  out  of  her  breast  and  held 
it  towards  him.  He  snatched  at  it,  glanced  at  his  own 
handwriting,  and  began  to  tear  it  across  and  across 
.without  further  investigation.  Then  as  if  changing  his 
mind  he  gathered  the  pieces  into  an  ash-tray  on  the 
table,  and  striking  an  unsteady  match  set  fire  to  them. 
"You  read  the  letter?  You  are  sure  it  was  mine?"  he 
said. 

"Yes,  I  read  it." 

The  flames  curled  up  recklessly,  threatening  danger ; 
but  there  were  no  draperies  to  burn  in  this  house.  A 
little  black  ash  floated  away  on  to  the  floor,  and  he 
flicked  at  the  remainder  with  his  finger. 

"I  trust  you,  my  dear — if  you  have  read  the  letter  he 
cannot  have  put  me  off  with  a  hoax,"  he  said  with  a 
ghastly  lightness.  "There  goes  Hervey's  power  over 
me !  The  fool !  But  tell  me  the  details,  Claudia.  How 
long  have  you  had  this  ?  God,  what  a  weight  off  me  f 
Why  did  you  let  me  stay  out  at  that  cursed  place — 
at  Health — all  this  time  ?  You  ought  not  to  have  kept 
me  there !"  He  was  querulous  in  his  reaction. 

"I  have  only  had  the  letter  for  some  thirty-six  hours. 
Stanley  wired  to  you  as  soon  as  I  got  back." 

"But  you  were  to  meet  Hervey  more  than  a  week 
ago,  at  Government  House.  Did  you  not  go?" 

"Yes,  I  went,  but  he  was  going  away  with  the  Ad- 
miral for  a  week's  cruise.  It  was  difficult  to  get  an 
interview." 

"I  see — I  see.  You  are  always  clever,  Claudia — you 
never  lose  your  head,  or  rush  things.  Well,  and 
then?" 


EXILE  201 

She  had  shuddered  a  little — a  long  convulsion  of 
her  straight  slight  limbs  that  shook  her  from  head  to 
foot  as  he  gloated  over  her  success;  but  she  answered 
in  the  same  even  tone.  "Then  I  went  out  to  Half-way 
House  on  excuse  of  meeting  you  returning  from 
Health." 

"Capital!    And  he  could  not  refuse  to  see  you?" 

"I  dined  with  him  that  night,  as  they  were  not  pre- 
pared at  Hassan's,  and  we  talked  it  out." 

"And  then  you  came  straight  back?  With  the  let- 
ter?" 

"I  slept  out  there  that  night ;  I  had  to.  It  was  late 
when — when  we  had  finished  talking." 

"Oh,  of  course — I  meant  the  next  morning.  But 
I  wonder  he  gave  it  up  so  tamely !"  His  elation  faded 
a  little.  He  glanced  up  sharply  in  suspicion,  not  of 
her,  but  of  the  man  he  feared.  "Do  you  think  he  has 
something  else  up  his  sleeve? — some  new  dodge  that 
makes  the  letter  useless?" 

"Only  what  I  told  you — the  Petition.  I  am  sure, 
from  his  manner,  that  that  is  a  grave  matter,  Edgar." 

He  snapped  his  fingers.  "They  may  go  to  hell  with 
the  Petition.  The  silk  trade  is  ours!"  he  said  as- 
suredly. "We  are  as  safe  as  a  church.  What  beats 
me  is  how  you  argued  him  out  of  his  own  'down'  on 
me — but  Hervey  was  always  a  straw  in  a  woman's 
hands!" 

The  contemptuous  arrogance  of  the  tone  met  a  sud- 
den response  in  Mrs.  Everard's  impassive  face.  She 
flushed  to  meet  it,  a  sudden  scarlet  anger  that  faded 
but  left  her  face  very  softly  proud,  as  if  she  took  up 
arms  for  something  unspoken.  Everard's  narrow  eyes 
had  again  been  fixed  on  the  pile  of  black  ash  as  if 


202  EXILE 

fascinated.  When  he  chanced  to  raise  them  and  looked 
at  his  wife  he  seemed  to  find  something  there  to  catch 
his  attention. 

"Of  course  you  are  the  most  beautiful  woman  in 
Exile,"  he  said,  as  if  repeating  a  fact  well  known  to 
him,  but  impressed  on  him  afresh.  "A  beautiful 
woman  pleading  for  her  husband  proved  too  much  even 
for  his  shrewdness,  eh,  Claudia  ?  I  should  like  to  have 
heard  you!  You  must  have  looked  magnificent." 

"It  was  a  purely  business  interview,"  said  Mrs. 
Everard  coldly.  There  was  a  faint  disgust  in  her  tone 
that  he  seemed  to  appreciate. 

"Repulsive,  anyhow,  for  you,  poor  girl!  And  you 
have  never  been  one  of  his  idols,  even  from  a  distance. 
But  you  are  a  beauty  all  the  same,  my  dear !  and  you 
couldn't  prevent  his  seeing  it." 

He  spoke  with  a  certain  triumph  in  the  possession  of 
her  as  a  useful  asset;  but  she  recognised  something 
more — something  that  struck  a  shock  of  alarm  all  along 
her  sharpened  senses.  The  mere  thought  that  her  ap- 
peal to  another  man  had  been  successful  increased  her 
value  in  his  eyes.  The  idea  of  her  beauty  attracting 
Hervey — however  unwilling  he  believed  it  on  her  part 
— made  it  attract  him  also.  He  had  a  palate  that  must 
be  stimulated  with  sauces  to  make  healthy  food  eat- 
able, as  Claudia  knew;  his  mental  palate  was  being 
stimulated  by  Hervey's  supposed  admiration  with  the 
same  effect.  He  had  lived  in  daily  intercourse  with  her 
for  years,  and  had  found  her  fulfil  all  the  needs  of  a 
figurehead  to  his  household;  but  he  had  never  seen 
her  excite  more  than  the  appreciation  accorded  a  fine 
picture  by  other  men.  Now  already  she  felt  his  eyes 
steal  to  her  again  and  again,  and  that  extra  sense  on 


EXILE  203 

guard  over  the  sacredness  of  her  love  warned  her  that 
if  he  had  excuse  he  would  move  nearer  to  her — touch 
her. 

She  drew  back,  almost  with  a  cry,  and  turned  to 
take  refuge  in  her  room.  "You  must  be  very  tired, 
and  you  have  had  nothing  to  eat,"  she  said  in  her 
ordinary  voice.  "I  have  dined  already,  but  I  told 
Abdul  to  have  a  second  meal  ready.  Do  you  mind  if 
I  go  to  bed  ?  The  last  two  days  have  been  very  tiring, 
as  you  may  suppose,  and  I  slept  badly  last  night." 

He  had  no  excuse  to  detain  her,  but  he  seemed 
slightly  disappointed.  "I  have  not  half  done  talking  it 
over  yet,"  he  said.  "I  want  to  hear  exactly  what  you 
said  and  what  he  said.  But  if  you  want  to  go — — " 

"I  do  really;  and  I  do  not  remember  exactly  what 
was  said.  It  was  very  painful,  as  you  may  imagine. 
He  guessed  that  I  was  not  entirely  in  your  confidence, 
and  he  carefully  unfolded  all  your  plans  to  me,  and 
what  you  had  already  accomplished !"  A  faint  bitter- 
ness was  on  her  lips  in  spite  of  her  measured  voice, 
and  he  shrank  from  it. 

"Yes,  of  course  he  would — curse  him!"  he  said 
hastily.  "Poor  Claudia!  Well,  good-night!" 

He  made  a  slight  movement  towards  her  at  last, 
almost  as  if  he  would  shake  hands.  They  had  not 
kissed  for  years,  and  the  mockery  of  a  handshake 
between  them  set  her  on  her  guard  again.  She  said 
carelessly,  "Good-night!"  and  passed  into  her  room, 
locking  her  door  behind  her. 

Then  her  limbs  began  to  tremble,  and  she  sat  down 
in  a  long  resting  chair,  as  if  the  strain  had  been  greater 
than  she  knew.  It  was  not  that  she  feared  her  hus- 
band's discovery  of  what  had  happened  between  Her- 


204  EXILE 

vey  and  herself,  for  had  it  not  been  for  Hervey's  posi- 
tion she  would  have  told  him  and  been  indifferent  to 
any  consequences  to  herself.  But  she  was  vaguely 
afraid  of  something  that  she  saw  in  men's  eyes  now 
that  love  had  crowned  and  glorified  her.  It  was  as  if 
she  were  radiated  by  an  inward  fire,  and  they,  not 
knowing  of  its  source,  yet  craved  to  warm  themselves 
at  its  flame.  She  knew  from  her  reflection  in  the  glass 
that  her  beauty  had  never  reached  its  consummation 
until  now;  there  had  been  a  something  lacking,  as  it 
might  be  in  a  nearly  perfect  work  of  art  by  an  inferior 
craftsman  who  had  just  missed  the  inspiration  of 
genius.  Now  that  she  had  been  completed  and  atp 
sorbed  in  one  man  she  was  aghast  at  the  effect  upon 
others  who  were  nothing  to  her  and  who  stood  outside 
the  charmed  circle.  Murgatroyd's  stammering  be- 
wilderment last  night  when  he  looked  in  her  face  had 
startled  her,  though  she  could  not  extinguish  the  glory 
that  betrayed  her;  but  her  husband's  dawning  attrac- 
tion to-day  was  far  worse.  It  had  even  diverted  his 
attention  from  pressing  the  point  of  her  unexplained 
success  in  getting  possession  of  the  letter,  or  had  given 
him  a  reason,  half-formulated,  half-suppressed,  in  the 
darker  workings  of  his  mind.  He  had  not  doubted  her, 
but  he  had  doubted  Hervey ;  and  out  of  the  doubt  had 
arisen  the  competitive  instinct  of  some  men  who  cannot 
desire  until  they  see  another  do  so.  When  she  was 
merely  his  legitimate  property  he  had  had  no  inclina- 
tion for  her,  but  the  suggestion  of  her  attracting  other 
men  whetted  his  appetite  as  the  sauces  of  the  dinner 
he  was  even  now  eating  in  the  next  room.  It  dawned 
upon  her  that  if  she  had  had  even  the  atmosphere  of 


EXILE  205 

the  prostitute  she  would  have  held  his  fancy  longer, 
and  she  shuddered. 

After  a  few  minutes  she  heard  a  sudden  arrival  in 
the  outer  room,  an  exclamation  of  pleasure  from  her 
husband,  and  voices.  For  a  minute  she  nearly  cried 
out,  in  her  excitement,  her  mood  was  so  tense;  but 
one  thing  the  burden  of  her  love  had  taught  her  in 
two  years — an  almost  perfect  self-control.  She  forced 
herself  to  sit  still,  listening,  and  then  she  recognised 
Murgatroyd's  voice.  He  had  come  round,  late  though 
it  was,  to  see  his  chief,  and  it  proved  a  welcome  inter- 
ruption. She  breathed  more  freely,  and  rising  began 
slowly  to  unbind  her  heavy  gold  hair.  Edgar  would 
not  at  least  think  of  her  now — he  would  not  brood  on 
a  dangerous  new  atmosphere  about  her.  The  voices 
of  the  two  men  were  only  audible  to  Mrs.  Everard  in 
an  even  monotone,  and  she  could  not  catch  their  words. 
After  the  first  few  sentences  of  greeting  before  the 
Arab  servant  the  subject  uppermost  in  both  their  minds 
found  expression,  and  the  Chief  Justice  burst  into  it 
almost  as  breathlessly  as  he  had  done  to  his  wife. 

"Stanley,  you  know  that  it  is  all  right  with  me? 
Claudia  got  the  letter !" 

Murgatroyd  did  not  reflect  the  exuberance  in  Ever- 
ard's  face  even  faintly,  as  he  usually  did.  Up  till  now 
he  had  seemed  in  some  way  a  pale  copy  of  the  man 
whose  more  brilliant  personality  swayed  him,  whether 
Everard's  mood  were  bright  or  dark.  But  to-night  his 
sombre  eyes  neither  lit  up  nor  responded  to  good 
news. 

"Yes,  I  know,"  he  said  tonelessly.  "I  came  to  speak 
to  you " 

"I  burnt  it!"  the  Chief  Justice  broke  in,  rubbing  his 


206  EXILE 

long  fine  hands  in  a  kind  of  frenzy  of  enjoyment.  "I 
saw  it  drop  to  ash,  and  with  it  that  cursed  man's  power 
over  me!  I  wish  I  could  get  round  on  Hervey — I 
wish  I  could  hold  him  in  my  hand  as  he  held  me.  I 
would  not  let  him  go  until  I  had  squeezed  the  last  drop 
of  resistance  out  of  him!  I'd  pay  back  that  ten  days 
at  Health  minute  by  minute !"  He  drew  his  lips  back 
from  his  sharp  white  teeth — rather  brittle  teeth,  slightly 
pointed  as  cannibals'  are  said  to  be,  but  very  white — 
and  his  restless  eyes  were  full  of  ugly  light.  Had  he 
been  an  animal  he  would  have  shown  the  whites  of 
them.  But  his  venom  met  with  no  more  response  from 
Murgatroyd  than  his  elation. 

"Why  did  you  send  Claudia  to  him?"  he  asked  heav- 
ily, his  lowering  face  turned  on  Everard  with  singular 
intentness.  "Why  was  she  dragged  into  it  at  all?" 

"Why,  Stanley,  you  don't  doubt  Claudia!  She  is  as 
firm  as  a  rock — as  safe  as  a  church.  She  was  my  win- 
ning card ;  I  did  the  best  thing  possible  in  sending  her. 
And  she  has  proved  it!"  he  added  with  a  return  of 
his  exultation. 

"Nevertheless  she  ought  not  to  have  been  mixed 
up  in  a  dirty  job  like  that,"  said  Murgatroyd,  with  a 
sudden  roughness  that  was  so  unexpected  that  the  Chief 
Justice  almost  started.  "It  is  not  women's  work!" 

Everard's  eyes  narrowed,  stared  at  him,  as  if  trying 
to  read  him  and  to  explain  this  amazing  phenomenon 
of  his  satellite  with  an  opinion  differing  from  his  own. 
"Claudia  has  the  head  of  a  man !"  he  said  almost  sooth- 
ingly, as  if  feeling  his  way.  "And — what  you  seem 
to  forget — she  is  my  wife.  If  I  trust  any  one  with 
my  interests  I  must  trust  her." 

The  cloud  on  Murgatroyd's  face  seemed  to  darken 


EXILE  207 

until  it  became  visible  in  the  dull  blood  rising  under 
his  sallow  skin.  He  turned  with  what  in  him  might 
almost  be  suppressed  fury  on  his  dominator. 

"No,  I  do  not  forget  that  she  is  your  wife — but  it 
seems  to  me  that  you  did,"  he  said  fiercely.  "Is  there 
nothing  you  hold  sacred,  Edgar,  that  you  will  not  use 
to  your  own  interest?  Did  you  not  remember  that 
she  might  meet  with  rudeness,  even  insult,  from  that 
man  after  what  you  had  already  done?  You  had  no 
right  to  submit  her  to  it — no  right,  I  say !" 

"Stanley!" 

"I  will  be  no  party  to  the  scheme  if  Claudia  is  to 
be  a  victim  to  it,"  said  the  Crown  prosecutor  wildly. 
"She  ought  to  go  to  Europe — to  go  home.  She  is 
too  fine  to  drag  her  down  to  our  level,  whatever  we 
may  think  fit  to  do.  Make  money  for  her  as  you  like — 
pile  it  up  to  pour  into  her  lap ! — but  don't  soil  her  in  the 
making." 

Everard  had  been  watching  him  with  those  narrowed 
eyes,  incredulity,  suspicion,  and  a  certain  mean  shrewd- 
ness chasing  each  other  across  his  face  like  lightning 
over  the  desert.  As  he  ended  he  threw  his  head  up 
with  a  jarring  laugh. 

"It's  pretty  obvious  what's  the  matter  with  you!" 
he  said  coarsely.  "Making  a  divinity  of  another  man's 
wife,  eh !  I  am  not  careful  enough  of  Claudia  to  your 
mind — you  would  be  a  better  guardian,  you  think." 

All  the  dark  blood  receded  from  Murgatroyd's  face 
and  left  him  ghastly,  but  he  was  not  to  be  browbeaten 
this  time.  "You  can  think  what  you  please,  Edgar," 
he  said,  like  some  despised  thing  driven  to  bay.  "I 
never  said  one  word  to  Claudia  you  might  not  hear — • 
I  have  never  had  a  hope " 


208  EXILE 

"Claudia  would  hardly  encourage — you!"  said 
Everard  with  slow,  stinging  contempt,  looking  at  the 
long,  sallow  face  and  emaciated  frame  as  if  he  looked 
upon  some  repulsive  reptile.  "You  need  not  trouble 
to  exonerate  yourself.  Claudia  can  contrast  us  at  her 
leisure,  any  day  of  the  week."  He  smiled  half  inso- 
lently, as  if  completely  satisfied  with  his  own  face  and 
figure;  and  indeed  he  had  never  admired  any  man  so 
much  as  the  one  he  saw  in  the  mirror.  "Nevertheless, 
I  don't  care  to  have  you  lecturing  me  on  my  duty  to 
my  wife,  from  the  standpoint  of  your  own  dirty  pas- 
sion for  her,"  he  added  with  a  sudden  fierce  brutality. 
"You  had  better  drop  it,  once  and  for  all.  I'll  forget 
what  you've  said  this  time ;  but  you'll  have  to  put  your 
heel  on  your  devotion  to  Claudia  and  let  me  hear  no 
more  about  it." 

This  was  one  of  Everard's  trump  cards  in  dealing 
with  any  nature  weaker  than  his  own — the  quick 
change  from  scathing  ridicule  to  savage  brutality.  He 
had  used  it  with  effect  all  through  his  official  career, 
and  with  those  unfortunately  subservient  to  him.  It 
was  noticeable  that  he  never  attempted  it  with  his  wife, 
or  with  those  whom  he  recognised  as  his  masters  in 
life.  Hitherto  a  mere  hint  of  it  had  held  the  Crown 
prosecutor  in  bondage,  though  there  had  been  little  oc- 
casion to  excuse  even  the  worst  of  his  judicial  sentences 
to  him.  Murgatroyd  had  not  seemed  too  nice  about  the 
misuse  of  power  himself,  nor  was  he  scrupulous  in 
business  dealings.  This  new  feeling  for  Claudia 
seemed  to  have  stricken  him  suddenly  mad. 

"I  have  told  you  already,"  he  said  in  a  perfectly 
steady  voice,  "that  you  can  think  what  you  please. 
If  you  want  to  quarrel  with  me  you  must  do  so.  But 


EXILE  209 

I  will  maintain  that  you  are  wrong  if  you  allow  Claudia 
to  be  mixed  up  in  this ;  and  you  have  no  right  to  sacri- 
fice her  by  sending  her  to  plead  for  you  with  a  man 
like  Hervey.  It  must  not  happen  again,  Edgar,  what- 
ever strait  we  are  in." 

For  a  minute  the  Chief  Justice  did  not  speak.  He 
was  tasting  the  bitterness  of  finding  that  a  ready  tool 
had  blunted  in  his  hand  and  threatened  to  injure  him 
if  he  risked  using  it  too  roughly.  He  and  Murgatroyd 
could  not  afford  to  quarrel  with  each  other — his  quicker 
brains  saw  that,  while  the  slower  man  was  too  absorbed 
in  his  devotion  to  an  ideal  to  think  of  safety  or  any- 
thing else.  He  was  a  grotesque  knight-errant,  but  his 
indifferent  personality  did  not  detract  from  the  force 
of  his  purpose,  and  he  must  be  reckoned  with.  There 
was  a  sudden  change  in  Everard's  manner  as  he  turned 
to  him,  almost  moist-eyed  and  with  a  tremble  in  his 
voice  that  was  not  all  assumed,  for  when  a  man  feels 
the  very  stones  under  his  feet  threatening  to  fail  his 
stability  he  may  well  cry  out  on  fortune.  Murgatroyd 
had  been  no  more  than  a  stone,  but  a  familiar  well-used 
thing  on  which  he  depended  for  his  foothold,  and  he 
could  have  wept  over  his  defection  for  the  humiliation 
of  it  as  well  as  its  danger. 

"Look  here,  Stanley,  I  spoke  harshly,"  he  said  with 
the  manner  that  unobservant  people  called  "winning." 
"But  you  made  me  mad.  I  love  Claudia — in  spite  of 
our  apparent  indifference  we  are  very  dear  to  each 
other — and  it  would  have  been  as  intolerable  to  her  as 
to  me  to  guess  that  you  had  thought  of  her  in  any  other 
light  than  as  a  friend."  With  that  new  impression  of 
her  upon  him  he  almost  believed  what  he  said ;  and  at 
least,  if  he  had  not  loved  her  of  late  years,  there  could 


210  EXILE 

be  no  doubt  that  she  loved  him  f  "Of  course,  I  don't 
wonder,"  he  went  on.  "Being  as  intimate  as  you  have 
been,  and  Claudia's  beauty,  you'd  have  been  a  stone  to 
have  resisted."  He  forgot  that  most  men  had  been 
stones  to  Claudia  Everard  up  to  now  and  had  not  found 
it  hard  to  resist  at  all. 

Even  now  Murgatroyd  did  not  meet  his  advances 
with  the  enthusiasm  he  expected.  He  remained  staring 
at  a  bowl  of  flowers  on  the  table — the  jessamine  and 
lilies  over  which  he  had  seen  her  bend  that  radiant  face 
— and  he  spoke  sullenly  still,  though  the  anger  had 
died  out  of  his  voice  also. 

"I  don't  wish  to  quarrel  with  you  any  more  than 
you  with  me,  Edgar.  God  knows  I've  admired  you  as 
I  do  no  other  man,  and  I'd  have  followed  you  half-way 
to  hell!  But  this  one  thing  can't  be.  I've  never  done 
Claudia  any  wrong  by  my  worst  thought — I've  wor- 
shipped her  like  a  goddess — but  I  won't  see  her  dragged 
through  the  mud  with  all  of  us." 

"Perhaps  you're  right,"  said  Everard,  as  if  in  grace- 
ful concession.  "I  will  talk  it  over  with  her,  and  she 
shall  go  home.  I  may  go  myself  before  many  months 
are  out,"  he  added  significantly. 

They  parted  friends,  but  the  bitterness  was  not  out 
of  the  Chief  Justice's  mind,  whatever  might  be  the  case 
with  the  Crown  prosecutor.  He  had  lost  his  power  in 
some  strange  way  that  he  could  not  understand.  He 
could  no  longer  talk  over  an  unwilling  witness  to  his 
side,  or  convince  men  and  women  against  their  will. 
He  had  been  face  to  face  with  a  mightier  pleader  than 
himself,  though  he  did  not  recognise  it,  and  love  had 
risen  triumphant  above  all  the  art  and  subtlety  and 
cunning  of  evil. 


CHAPTER  XII 

"I  have  taken  that  vow — 

And  you  were  my  friend, 
But  yesterday — now 

All  that's  at  an  end, 
And  you  are  my  husband  and  claim  me,  and  I  must  depend. 

"Yesterday  I   was   free, 
Now  you,  as  I  stand, 
Walk  over  to  me 

And  take  hold  of  my  hand. 

You  look  at  my  lips,  your  eyes  are  too  bold,  your  smile  is 
too  bland." 

JAMES  STEPHENS. 

THERE  was  a  dance  once  a  week  at  Exile  Club. 
The  Marines'  band  came  down  to  play,  and  peo- 
ple danced  in  the  big  room  upstairs,  and  sat  out  on  the 
landing  outside  if  the  wind  were  blowing  too  hard  in 
the  verandah.  It  was  rather  too  intimate  in  the  Club 
for  successful  dancing;  there  was  no  getting  away 
from  your  neighbours,  and  people  sitting  out  were  over- 
heard by  lookers-on,  and  the  dancers  ran  into  each 
other  round  the  walls  or  were  jammed  in  the  middle 
of  the  room.  Nevertheless  it  was  an  institution  and 
"something  to  do"  in  the  listless  phrase  of  those  sta- 
tioned there.  Many  a  dreary  festivity  continues  to 
flourish  in  Exile  for  the  sake  of  cheating  monotony  of 
a  few  hours. 

Barbara  Play  fair's  first  appearance  at  a  Club  dance 

211 


212  EXILE 

took  place  after  her  engagement  was  announced,  and 
left  every  man  in  the  Fort  with  a  feeling  of  injury  in 
consequence.  When  you  are  meeting  the  same  people 
every  day,  and  dancing  with  them  every  week,  the  ad- 
vent of  a  new-comer  is  a  boon  that  ought  to  be  free  to 
competition  for  a  month  at  least.  Moreover,  she  was 
a  girl,  and  at  the  moment  the  only  girl  in  Exile,  except 
the  Vanburens'  French  governess  who  was  not  attrac- 
tive. All  the  bachelors  felt  that  the  Colonial  Secretary 
had  taken  more  than  his  innings  in  annexing  her  within 
a  week  of  her  arrival,  and  all  the  married  men  grum- 
bled because  she  would  not  now  have  dances  enough 
to  go  round  if  Haines  took  every  other  one,  which  the 
beast  would  surely  do.  Barbara  had,  in  fact,  arrived 
with  a  programme  already  much  engaged,  for  besides 
Haines'  legitimate  claims  she  had  given  Mr.  Merryn 
two  and  the  Admiral  one.  The  Admiral  had  been  the 
best  waltzer  in  the  Navy  some  years  ago,  and  could 
pick  and  choose  still  amongst  the  limited  number  of 
partners.  Fortunately  for  the  surplus  of  men  who 
were  still  awaiting  their  chance,  Mr.  Smyth,  the  secre- 
tary, did  not  dance. 

When  the  Government  House  party  appeared  the 
dance  had  already  begun,  being  an  informal  affair ;  but 
the  waltz  stopped,  and  the  Marines  played  "God  Save 
the  King,"  to  Barbara's  intense  delight.  It  was  the 
first  time  she  had  entered  a  room  to  the  National  An- 
them, and  she  stared  with  all  her  blue  eyes  at  her 
uncle's  objection. 

"Silly  nonsense !"  said  the  Admiral.  "I've  told  them 
time  enough  not  to  treat  me  like  a  Punch  and  Judy 
show  unless  it's  some  official  affair  and  there's  a  big 


EXILE  213 

pot  with  us.  'Rooty-toot ! — here  he  comes  P  I  might 
just  as  well  take  a  drum  and  fife  with  me." 

"Oh,  but,  Uncle  Jonathan,  I  think  it's  lovely !  And 
you're  the  King's  representative ;  don't  you  feel  it  won- 
derful?" 

"No,  my  dear,  I  don't,  and  the  King  doesn't  either, 
I  bet,  when  they  National  Anthem  him  at  every  tea- 
fight  and  penny-farthing  meeting  that  he  has  to  attend. 
A  sensible  man  like  that,  and  a  sailor  too,  don't  want  to 
be  drummed  in  and  out  of  his  ship  when  he's  simply 
going  ashore  out  of  uniform!  Anyhow,  I  don't! — 
Hulloa!  there's  the  Chief  Justice,  back  at  last." 

"Hateful  man!"  said  Lady  Stroud  in  a  cheerful 
aside.  "How  beautiful  his  wife  looks  to-night!" 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Everard  were  coming  across  the  danc- 
ing-room as  she  spoke  to  greet  the  Governor.  The 
Chief  Justice  walked  well,  with  a  certain  grace  and 
vigour  that  made  him  seem  younger  than  he  was,  and 
his  thin,  handsome  face  certainly  looked  the  better  for 
his  change  of  air.  There  was  something  almost  ag- 
gressive in  his  smile  as  he  shook  hands  with  the  Ad- 
miral and  Lady  Stroud  and  was  introduced  to  Barbara 
— something  more  than  ever  assured  of  his  own  charm 
and  power  to  please. 

"Have  you  any  dances  left,  Miss  Play  fair?"  he  said 
at  once.  "I  know  if  I  don't  get  one  now  that  I  shan't 
have  a  chance  in  another  five  minutes !" 

"You  promised  some  last  week,  didn't  you,  Bar- 
bara?" Lady  Stroud  put  in,  without  haste,  but  quite 
firmly.  "You  mustn't  forget  Captain  Bunney  and  Mr. 
Yarrow." 

"Yes,  but  we  didn't  settle  what  numbers,"  said  Bar- 


214  EXILE 

bara  literally.  "And  I  never  can  remember  without  a 
programme — I'm  afraid  it  is  first  come  first  served." 

"I  shall  be  the  first  to  come!"  said  Everard  con- 
fidently. "Which  are  Mr.  Haines'  numbers — even  or 
uneven?" 

"Oh — uneven!"  The  girl  laughed  a  little  and 
flushed  faintly  at  this  wholesale  allotment. 

"I  shan't  try  for  a  single  uneven  then.  This  is  the 
second  dance — Haines  will  have  the  third  I  know;  I 
will  come  for  the  fourth,  Miss  Playfair,  and  the  eighth 
with  your  consent." 

"Don't  be  too  generous,  Barbara!"  warned  Lady 
Stroud.  "You  will  find  you  have  only  one  to  spare  to 
each  claimant  if  you  are  to  be  fair." 

"Miss  Playfair  doesn't  want  to  be  fair;  she  wants 
to  enjoy  herself!"  said  Everard  boastfully.  "And  it's 
up  to  me  to  see  that  she  does  so."  He  laughed  at 
Barbara  with  a  quick  flash  of  his  brilliant  eyes  and  a 
white  gleam  of  teeth,  which  seemed  to  promise  the 
mirth  and  carelessness  dear  to  youth,  and  she  thought 
him  charming. 

But  when  she  came  to  waltz  with  Haines — the  next 
dance,  as  Everard  had  foretold — she  found  that  he  was 
not  pleased  at  the  prospect  of  her  dancing  with  the 
Chief  Justice. 

"What  made  you  give  him  a  dance,  child?"  he  said 
quickly,  guiding  her  skilfully  in  and  out  of  the  crowded 
couples.  He  steered  well,  but  he  did  not  swing  her 
round  and  round  with  the  solid  activity  that  she  called 
dancing.  "You  could  surely  have  made  an  excuse  with 
so  many  engagements  already !" 

"I  never  thought  of  it,"  said  Barbara  blankly.    "He 


EXILE  215 

asked  me,  and  he  was  very  nice,  and  I  do  so  admire 
Mrs.  Everard !" 

"Yes,  but" — he  laughed  in  a  vexed  fashion — "how- 
ever much  you  may  admire  a  woman  it  doesn't  follow 
that  her  husband  is  a  good  sort,  unfortunately.  I  had 
rather  that  you  had  not  danced  with  him." 

"Don't  you  like  him  then,  Rodney  ?" 

She  looked  a  little  troubled,  a  little  downcast,  having 
failed  already  to  do  the  thing  he  would  have  preferred. 
Had  he  asserted  an  authority  over  her,  even  in  so  small 
a  matter,  she  would  have  resented  it,  no  doubt,  and  in- 
sisted on  doing  as  she  pleased;  but  he  had  somehow 
given  her  a  feeling  that  he  was  a  little  disappointed  at 
her  lack  of  taste,  and  that  she  had  not  shown  the  right 
intuition  with  regard  to  the  Chief  Justice. 

"He  is  rather  a  cad,  I  think,"  said  Haines  frankly. 
"I  never  thought  him  good  enough  for  his  wife,  though 
many  people  find  her  rather  dull  and  pity  him." 

"They  are  a  very  handsome  pair,  I  think,"  said  Bar- 
bara, but  her  tone  still  fell  flat.  "They  are  dancing 
together  now." 

She  was  wondering  what  it  felt  like  to  dance  with 
your  own  husband,  and  whether  years  of  married  life 
made  any  difference  to  the  pleasure  of  it.  She  hoped 
not.  She  was  enjoying  the  motion  so  much,  and 
Haines  waltzed  very  well  even  though  he  did  not  go 
with  the  abandonment  that  she  had  hitherto  preferred. 
But  she  could  not  honestly  say  that  she  would  rather 
dance  with  him  than  with  any  man  present  just  because 
they  were  engaged,  and  it  worried  her  that  she  did  not 
feel  such  a  preference  beyond  question.  He  was  so 
tender  and  devoted,  and  at  moments  so  impassioned, 
that  she  would  fain  have  met  him  at  equal  depth,  feel- 


216  EXILE 

ing  with  real  humility  that  he  was  giving  her  more 
than  he  gained.  She  was  always  saying  to  herself, 
"Now  I  really  love  him!"  catching  at  the  moment 
before  it  came.  But  it  never  seemed  to  come. 

Barbara  was  right  in  saying  that  the  Chief  Justice 
was  dancing  with  his  wife,  but  it  was  the  only  time 
that  evening.  He  had  urged  her  to  go  to  the  Club 
dance,  though  she  would  have  preferred  his  going 
alone,  and  partly  to  escape  his  importunities,  and 
partly  because  it  seemed  a  more  normal  and  natural 
thing  to  do,  she  accompanied  him.  She  did  not  even 
know  who  might  be  there,  but  her  instinct  told  her 
that  Hervey  would  not  be.  He  was  still  waiting  for 
a  sign  or  a  summons  from  her,  and  she  had  given 
none.  But  she  had  no  sooner  entered  the  motor  with 
Everard  to  drive  down  to  the  Club  than  she  began  to 
suspect  it  was  a  mistake.  Since  his  arrival  the  previous 
night  she  had  kept  out  of  his  way,  and  as  he  had  been 
obliged  to  be  in  Reserve  all  day — to  see  and  consult 
with  Hassan  and  other  members  of  the  silk  ring,  as  she 
suspected — they  had  had  no  opportunity  for  speech  in 
private.  In  the  car  she  had  felt  him  moving  stealthily 
nearer  to  her,  and  once  he  had  referred  to  her  mission 
anent  the  letter  with  a  suddenness  that  nearly  made 
her  cry  out. 

"If  Hervey  could  see  you  now,  Claudia,  he  would 
give  up  a  dozen  letters !  I  don't  wonder  you  got  round 
the  surly  brute.  That  blue  gauze  thing  over  your  head 
makes  you  enough  to  warm  up  any  man — even  your 
own  husband,  my  dear!"  He  laughed  softly,  and  it 
had  a  wicked  sound  to  her  through  the  smooth  running 
of  the  car.  "God!  but  he  must  have  cursed  me  for 
owning  you !"  he  added  a  little  thickly. 


EXILE  217 

Again  she  recognised  that  whetted  appetite  through 
the  admiration  of  another  man,  and  her  profile  almost 
sharpened  in  the  restraint  she  put  upon  herself.  It 
seemed  to  her  dreadful  even  to  be  sitting  there  beside 
Everard,  and  she  would  like  to  have  thrown  herself  out 
of  the  car  and  run.  Her  dark  distended  eyes  went  to 
the  jagged  outlines  of  the  Rocks  and  rested  there  as  if 
their  unassailable  strength  reassured  her. 

"There  was  no  question  of  personal  persuasion," 
she  said  icily.  "It  was  a  business  matter.  I  told  you 
so  before." 

"You  don't  realise  your  own  attractions,  Claudia!" 
he  said  with  that  horrible  laugh. 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders  and  relapsed  into  silence 
in  the  furthest  corner  of  the  car.  Later  on,  when  he 
asked  her  to  dance  with  him,  she  had  no  reason  to 
refuse.  They  often  danced  together  because  their  steps 
suited,  "and  for  the  look  of  the  thing,"  as  he  had 
frankly  told  her.  But  his  clasp  was  noxious  and  sought 
to  press  her  nearer  while  she  stealthily  held  away,  his 
eyes  gloating  on  her  face  made  her  feel  a  little  sick. 
She  wondered  for  the  first  time  if  he  looked  so  at  the 
Arab  women  of  Banishment,  where  he  had  that  house 
of  which  she  had  known  nothing. 

She  would  not  dance  with  him  again,  though  he  pes- 
tered her  and  almost  sulked  when  she  accepted  other 
men  as  partners.  She  had  no  lack  of  applicants  to- 
night, and  her  dull  surprise  was  merged  in  thankfulness 
for  the  means  of  escape.  Sometimes,  for  all  her  face 
and  figure,  she  had  sat  out  a  dance  or  so,  but  one 
seemed  hardly  over  before  another  man  was  begging 
for  the  next.  She  suspected  the  cause  in  herself,  and 
it  made  her  blush  and  tremble. 


218  EXILE 

During  the  evening  it  chanced  that  she  was  sitting 
with  Lady  Stroud — had  in  fact  taken  refuge  with  her 
• — when  Barbara  came  back  between  the  dances  to  re- 
port herself  to  her  chaperon.  Perhaps  Mrs.  Everard's 
eyes  were  sharpened  by  her  own  mental  experience,  but 
it  struck  her  as  significant  that  the  girl's  partner  was 
Haines  when  she  chose  to  remember  this  graceful  duty. 
Might  not  another  man's  time-allowance  have  been 
shortened  rather  than  her  fiance's  in  that  brief  period 
for  talk  during  the  "sitting  out"  ?  Haines  and  she  had 
been  downstairs,  sitting  in  the  darkest  part  of  the 
paved  ground  that  served  the  Club  for  a  garden,  and 
could  not  plead  the  excuse  of  being  unable  to  find  some 
corner  to  themselves.  Yet  Barbara  seemed  quite  con- 
tent to  leave  this  tete-a-tete  and  to  sit  upon  the  arm  of 
Lady  Stroud's  sofa  and  chat  generally  to  one  and 
another  in  place  of  having  her  lover  to  herself.  Mrs. 
Everard  looked  at  Rodney  Haines  with  her  direct,  full 
gaze  and  found  his  radiance  undimmed.  He  still 
moved  in  the  glamour  of  his  happiness,  and  his  quick 
smile  was  ready  for  the  feeblest  of  jokes  with  Lady 
Stroud.  Then  she  turned  to  the  girl  whose  long,  slight 
body  was  posed  so  carelessly  on  the  sofa  arm,  and 
found  her  looking  down,  with  a  non-committal  air 
that  promised  nothing.  The  pretty  pose  of  her  smooth, 
young  head  was  almost  as  if  the  weight  of  hair  bowed 
it  a  little  from  the  neck,  and  Mrs.  Everard  kept  her 
fascinated  gaze  on  her  till  Barbara  turned  deliberately 
to  her  as  if  drawn  by  it. 

"Mrs.  Everard,  I  want  to  know  if  I  may  come  and 
see  you  some  day — quite  by  myself,  and  not  formally?" 
she  said.  The  request  suggested  an  impulsive  caprice 
that  should  have  carried  a  smile  with  it;  but  she  did 


EXILE  219 

not  smile,  and  her  empty  blue  eyes  seemed  for  the  first 
time  as  if  they  were  concealing  a  thought. 

"I  should  like  that  very  much,"  said  Mrs.  Everard 
gently.  "If  you  will  tell  me  when  you  are  coming  I 
will  deny  myself  to  other  visitors." 

Barbara  nodded  as  if  the  suggestion  were  what  she 
wished,  and  then  turned  to  Haines  with  the  same  delib- 
eration. 

"I  wish  you  would  get  me  some  lemonade,  Rodney," 
she  said.  "I  am  so  thirsty — get  it  before  the  next 
dance,  please." 

Haines  turned  quickly,  and  his  face  altered  even  over 
the  trivial  service.  It  seemed  such  a  joy  to  do  any- 
thing for  her  that  it  was  pitiful  to  Mrs.  Everard's 
understanding  eyes.  "Shall  I  bring  it  to  you  here?" 
he  said.  "You  won't  have  gone  off  to  dance  by  the 
time  I  get  back,  as  you  did  with  the  Chief  Justice,  for 
instance?  Mrs.  Everard,  Barbara  has  been  sitting  in 
dark  corners  with  your  husband !" 

"I  hope  it  was  a  clean  corner,  then,"  said  Claudia 
composedly.  "Some  of  the  Club  chairs  are  very 
dusty." 

"No — no  I  I  will  stay  here — do  go  and  get  it,  there's 
a  good  boy!"  said  Barbara  hastily;  but  the  instant  he 
had  gone  she  turned  to  Claudia  again. 

"May  I  come  to-morrow  morning?"  she  said  almost 
eagerly. 

"Certainly."     • 

And  then  Mr.  Merryn  appeared,  for  it  was  his  dance, 
and  was  kept  waiting  until  Miss  Playfair  had  received, 
and  drunk,  her  lemonade.  She  went  off  with  him,  but 
turned,  her  light  hand  resting  on  his  arm,  and  said, 
"Thank  you !"  to  Claudia  with  that  same  new  gravity. 


220  EXILE 

"Mrs.  Everard  is  looking  awfully  fit  to-night!"  re- 
marked Merryn. 

"Yes,"  said  Barbara,  and  there  was  enthusiasm  in 
her  tone.  "I  think  she  is  the  most  beautiful  person  I 
have  ever  seen." 

He  did  not  answer  this,  perhaps  because  he  was 
watching  for  an  opening  in  the  crowded  room  to  swing 
her  into  the  dancers.  He  was  rather  hot  already,  for 
he  danced  as  thoroughly  as  he  played  polo ;  but  Barbara 
had  no  fault  to  find  with  the  steady  rush  of  their 
rhythmic  young  feet  over  the  floor.  In  silent  vigour 
they  danced  the  waltz  through,  finding  the  same  enjoy- 
ment that  a  young  horse  does  in  the  pace  of  his  gallop. 
When  the  music  stopped  they  stopped,  and  Merryn 
removed  his  arm  from  her  waist,  and  she  put  her  hand 
on  it  again,  as  methodically  as  well-drilled  soldiers. 
To  them  it  was  all  part  of  the  Game — dancing  was  a 
game  as  much  as  tennis,  and  they  played  it  to  well- 
authenticated  rules.  Being  English  they  accepted  the 
Game  and  its  rules  as  national  standards. 

"Jolly  good  tune,"  said  Merryn. 

"Yes,  I  like  that  'It  might  have  been'  waltz,  it  was 
the  best  last  season,"  was  Barbara's  comment;  and 
they  went  out  of  the  dancing-room  humming  it  in 
concert  cheerfully: 

"It  -  might  -  have  -  been  -  if- we    had  known. 

All  -  our  -  hearts   -   told  -  us-in    the-past; 

But-another-came-between  and-then-the-golden-chance-had-flown ; 

It  -  might  -  have  -  been  it-might    have-been  I " 

They  sat  down  in  two  chairs  outside  the  dancing- 
room  in  a  very  ugly  glare  of  light ;  but  it  could  not  find 
a  flaw  in  Barbara's  smooth  skin,  or  hardly  detect  a  line 
round  Merryn's  clean-shaven  lips.  The  two  young, 


EXILE  221 

satiny  heads  were  as  bright  with  health  as  the  coat  of 
a  thoroughbred  in  good  condition. 

"Are  you  playing  polo  to-morrow?"  said  the  girl. 

"Yes.    Is  Lady  Stroud  coming  down?" 

"I  wish  she  were !" 

"Why  don't  you  ask  her?" 

"I  think  it  bores  her  going  every  time." 

"It  doesn't  bore  you?" 

"Oh,  no;  I  love  it!" 

A  pause.  Across  the  passage,  not  ten  feet  away, 
Mrs.  Bunney  and  Major  Dalkeith  were  carrying  on 
the  customs  of  an  affair  suspected  by  half  Exile,  talk- 
ing in  bravado  for  their  world  to  see,  possibly  arrang- 
ing the  sordid  details  of  their  next  illicit  meeting.  But 
in  the  young  clear  eyes  of  the  couple  facing  them  it 
mattered  not  at  all.  They  saw  nothing  but  an  uninter- 
esting man  and  a  passee  woman  resting  between  the 
dances  even  as  they  were  doing.  ( 

"It's  the  gymkana  next  week,"  said  Merryn.  "You 
must  come  to  that." 

"Yes,  we  shall  come  to  that." 

"Will  you  name  a  pony  for  me?" 

"Yes,  if  you  like." 

"I  mean,  if  Haines  doesn't  mind?" 

"Why  should  he  mind?" 

"Oh,  I  don't  know." 

Blank  silence  again,  while  it  is  to  be  supposed  that 
they  both  pondered  as  to  why  Mr.  Haines  should  mind. 
The  conversation  could  not  be  said  to  be  witty  or  par- 
ticularly elevating ;  yet  Mrs.  Everard,  meeting  them  on 
their  return  to  the  dancing-room,  thought  she  had 
never  seen  two  pairs  of  such  serene  blue  eyes.  There 
was  neither  doubt  nor  disturbance  in  Barbara's  face  for 


222  EXILE 

the  minute ;  she  looked  like  a  careless  child  again,  and 
the  young  man  with  her  was  smiling — at  some  stupid 
joke,  no  doubt.  Then  Mr.  Haines  appeared  to  claim 
Miss  Playfair  once  more — he  had  all  the  uneven  num- 
bers, as  the  Chief  Justice  had  supposed;  but  Mrs. 
Everard  turned  away. 

She  left  soon  afterwards.  She  had  supposed  that  her 
husband  would  stay  on,  as  he  sometimes  did,  and  the 
car  return  for  him.  She  had  told  him,  briefly,  that 
she  was  going  home,  and  he  had  made  no  comment, 
and  with  a  sensation  of  relief  that  felt  to  her  almost 
light-headed  she  went  to  make  her  adieux  to  Lady 
Stroud.  There  was  no  ceremony  observed  at  the 
weekly  Club  dances,  and  it  was  not  unprecedented  to 
leave  before  the  Government  House  party,  who  were 
staying  later  than  usual  on  Barbara's  account. 

"Are  you  going,  Mrs.  Everard  ?"  said  Lady  Stroud ; 
and  then  in  confidence,  "I  wish  I  were !"  she  added. 

"May  I  stay  and  chaperon  Miss  Playfair  for  you?" 
asked  Claudia,  pausing. 

"No — no;  my  husband  will  not  leave  at  present," 
said  the  Governor's  wife,  thinking  gratefully  how  kind 
Mrs.  Everard's  eyes  could  be,  and — for  the  fiftieth  time 
— that  she  was  a  really  nice  woman.  She  wondered  also 
that  men  called  her  face  cold;  it  was  so  very  tender 
and  womanly  at  times,  and  quick  with  sympathy.  "I 
am  sure  it  is  very  good  of  you  to  offer,"  she  said.  "No 
one  else  would  have  done  so!" 

"A  chaperon  has  always  seemed  to  me  one  of  the 
lesser  martyrs !"  said  Claudia,  and  her  irresistible  upper 
lip  lifted  a  little  with  the  suggestion  of  a  smile.  "She 
has  the  reputation  of  a  dragon  soured  by  draughts !" 


EXILE  223 

"I  wish  we  could  do  away  with  the  custom  and  let 
young  people  look  after  themselves !" 

"But  surely  Mr.  Haines  could  look  after  Barbara 
now  I" 

"I  suppose  he  could ;  but  the  child  coaxed  me  to  stay 
for  a  little,  to  tell  the  truth,"  Lady  Stroud  admitted. 
"As  long  as  I  am  here  she  thinks  the  Admiral  won't 
look  at  his  watch !  He  has  been  rather  strict  lately  in 
packing  her  off  to  bed." 

Claudia  did  not  comment;  but  as  she  went  to  the 
dressing-room  for  her  cloak  she  comprehended  from 
her  own  case  that  Barbara  would  drive  home  alone 
with  Mr.  Haines  unless  the  Admiral  and  Lady  Stroud 
remained  with  her,  and  the  impulse  that  was  hurrying 
her  home  by  herself  lent  her  a  fatal  intuition  for  Bar- 
bara. She  wished  that  there  were  no  fear  in  her  own 
heart  to  teach  her  Barbara's — she  wished  that  she  had 
not  known ;  and  yet  she  did  know,  and  almost  dreaded 
the  girl's  visit  to  her  on  the  morrow. 

Even  as  she  was  entering  the  car  a  man  came  out 
of  the  club-house  swiftly  as  if  waiting  for  her  and 
helped  her  in.  With  a  revulsion  of  her  senses  she 
recognised  that  it  was  her  husband,  and  that  he  must 
have  been  skulking  in  the  dark  entrance  and  ready  to 
join  her  at  the  opportune  moment.  She  turned  quite 
indifferently  as  she  was  taking  her  seat  in  the  car. 

"I  am  sorry  to  take  you  away,  Edgar.  I  thought 
you  would  have  stayed  longer.  You  need  not  leave  on 
my  account." 

"I  am  quite  ready  to  come,  my  dear.  I  never  in- 
tended to  let  you  go  home  alone !" 

His  solicitude  was  so  unusual  as  to  be  a  mockery — 
or  a  menace.  But  she  leant  back  in  her  corner  with  the 


224  EXILE 

same  quiescence,  and  hardly  spoke  on  the  way  home 
beyond  a  few  brief  comments  on  Miss  Playfair's  ap- 
pearance, and  even  then  with  a  half -suppressed  yawn. 
He,  on  the  contrary,  seemed  alert  to  uneasiness.  He 
fidgeted  restlessly  and  gave  the  chauffeur  impatient 
orders,  and  his  voice  had  a  vibrative  quality  that 
sounded  over-excited. 

"She's  a  very  jolly  girl,"  he  said  of  Barbara,  with  a 
hint  of  patronage.  "Nothing  in  her  at  present,  but 
marriage  will  alter  that.  She  looks  healthy  too — sort 
of  girl  who  could  eat  an  apple  with  her  front  teeth. 
That's  a  sure  test." 

"I  think  Miss  Playfair's  mind  is  as  healthy  as  her 
body,"  said  Claudia  coldly. 

He  laughed  disagreeably.  "Her  build  is  more  im- 
portant— a  man  looks  at  those  long  limbs  and  clear 
skin,  and  doesn't  worry  about  her  mind." 

"I  think  you  wrong  Mr.  Haines !"  said  Claudia  with 
biting  irony.  Had  this  man  beside  her  always  turned 
the  ugly  side  of  his  nature  to  her  like  this,  and  shown 
her  the  coarseness  of  his  outlook,  or  had  she  merely 
been  blind  and  deaf?  Her  sharpened  senses  recoiled 
now,  at  any  rate. 

"Haines  is  an  ass! — always  was,"  said  Everard 
sharply.  "Some  emaciated  blue-stocking  would  be 
good  enough  for  him  and  his  fiddle,  not  that  girl  with 
blood  in  her  veins.  She  told  me  she  thought  we  were 
the  handsomest  couple  in  Exile!  What  do  you  think 
of  that?"  He  laughed  a  little  satisfied  laugh  and 
passed  his  hand  half-fondly  over  his  clean-shaven 
mouth. 

"I  think  that  Miss  Playfair  shows  the  judgment  of 
extreme  youth !"  said  Claudia,  and  it  was  then  that  she 


EXILE  225 

yawned.  She  did  not  wonder  at  his  objection  to 
Haines,  Everard's  appreciation  of  people  being  entirely 
influenced  by  their  opinion  of  him.  She  had  always 
known  this,  but  had  thought  it  the  natural  vanity  of  a 
clever  man. 

When  the  car  drew  up  at  their  own  bungalow  she 
went  straight  through  the  house  and  to  her  own  room ; 
but  her  husband  had  followed  her  with  more  speed 
than  she  knew,  and  his  voice  at  her  own  door  arrested 
her.  It  was  lowered  to  a  caressing  pitch  that  she  failed 
to  recognise  across  a  lapse  of  seven  years,  and  struck 
her  grotesquely,  as  a  liberty,  though  he  spoke  common- 
place words. 

"Are  you  going  to  bed  at  once,  now,  Claudia  ?  Won't 
you  come  and  have  a  chat  first  ?" 

"Is  it  anything  particular?"  she  said,  hesitating,  with 
a  certain  cold  courtesy.  "I  am  rather  tired,  and  it  is 
past  one  o'clock." 

"Oh !  I  only  wanted  a  little  of  your  company.  You 
are  worth  looking  at  even  if  you  don't  talk,  you  know! 
By  Jove !  I  never  saw  you  looking  better  than  to-night, 
Claudia, — I  could  have  found  it  in  my  heart  to  make 
love  to  you,  in  spite  of  being  your  husband!"  He 
laughed  a  little  uneasily.  "You  are  looking  superb  at 
this  moment." 

She  waited  patiently,  her  hand  on  her  door,  for 
something  better  worth  hearing. 

"Come  and  have  some  lemonade.  I  want  a  drink, 
too !  My  throat  is  as  dry  as  the  Rocks.  You  can  spare 
five  minutes.  Most  women  wouldn't  need  urging!" 
He  laughed  consciously.  "The  little  Playfair  girl 
would  sit  up  with  me  till  morning." 

"I  am  going  to  bed — I  am  tired,"  Mrs.  Everard 


22CT  EXILE 

repeated  in  civil  explanation.  She  looked  at  him  a 
moment  in  slow  wonder  at  his  fatuousness.  Did  he 
think  to  make  her  jealous? 

"Well!"  He  moved  nearer  to  her,  his  head  a  little 
bent  to  her  ear,  and  she  felt  rather  than  saw  the  nar- 
rowed eyes  like  those  of  a  beast  of  prey.  "That's  no 
reason  why  you  should  shut  me  out !  It's  a  long  time 
since  I  have  worried  you,  isn't  it,  Claudia?  But  I'm 
your  husband,  you  know — I  could  if  I  would!" 

The  woman's  figure  stiffened,  froze,  as  if  cased  in 
steel.  Her  lids  drooped  over  her  deep-coloured  eyes, 
and  her  voice  was  carefully  lowered  as  she  spoke. 

"The  agreement  was  mutual!" 

"You  seemed  to  prefer  it — of  course,  I  could  not 
force  you  against  your  inclination!  I  think  I've  been 
patient." 

That  was  the  old  Everard,  turning  words  to  his  own 
account,  handling  the  very  facts  in  her  favour  until 
they  evidenced  against  her.  She  knew  that  she  had 
her  defence,  but  the  horror  of  the  suggested  situation 
froze  the  words  in  her  throat.  She  could  not  think  of 
anything  except  the  one  giant  reason  why  the  very 
thought  seemed  to  pollute  her.  She  even  forgot  his 
recently  admitted  infidelities — the  Arab  house  at  Ban- 
ishment, a  sufficient  argument  for  any  wife.  She  could 
think  of  nothing  but  Richmond  Hervey,  and  her  hus- 
band's mere  presence  near  her  made  her  mad. 

"It  is  out  of  the  question,"  she  said,  and  she  had 
never  pronounced  words  with  so  much  difficulty. 

"Come,  Claudia,  don't  be  cruel !  You  don't  realise 
the  temptations  you  have  thrust  me  into  by  locking  me 
out  of  your  room.  I  have  always  left  the  decision  in 


EXILE  227 

your  hands,  but  you  don't  know  how  hardly  you  have 
treated  me." 

She  listened  to  the  facile  lies  with  a  kind  of  terror 
of  him  growing  on  her.  It  seemed  to  her  that  he  might 
persuade  Heaven  itself  of  his  injuries  and  her  agency 
in  the  case,  in  spite  of  the  bitter  truth.  She  was  being 
driven,  and  felt  that  she  must  end  this  now  or  never. 
With  a  sudden  movement  she  almost  thrust  him  back 
from  her,  and  stood  with  her  back  to  her  bedroom  door 
as  if  she  guarded  her  very  soul  there. 

"It  is  impossible — now  or  ever,"  she  said,  speaking 
slowly.  "I  must  tell  you — the  price  I  paid  for — the 
letter!" 

"The  letter!"  Her  success  was  almost  more  than 
she  had  played  for.  His  face  went  dark  red  as  if 
flushed  by  wine,  and  his  eyes  lightened  in  a  curious 
fashion  that  made  them  murderous.  "Hervey!"  he 
said.  "Not  Hervey?" 

She  merely  bowed  her  head,  and  there  was  a  long 
pause.  It  seemed  to  her  that  some  minutes  passed 
while  they  stood  there  outside  her  door — she  with  her 
back  still  against  it,  her  hands  grasping  the  handle,  he 
with  his  shoulders  thrust  forward  and  his  narrow, 
working  face  like  a  snake  going  to  strike. 

"How  was  it?"  he  said  at  last,  and  his  voice  was 
hardly  more  than  a  whisper. 

"You  had  told  me  you  must  have  the  letter — to  offer 
anything,"  she  said  monotonously.  "Those  were  his 
terms.  He  would  take  nothing  else." 

"And  you — consented  ?" 

"I  stayed  the  night  in  his  house." 

He  drew  away  from  her,  and  walked  through  the 
drawing-room  to  the  pillars.  Across  the  long  vista  she 


228  EXILE 

could  see  that  the  servants  had  left  spirits  and  soda- 
water  on  the  dining-room  table,  and  Everard  poured 
out  some  whisky  and  drank  it  off  neat.  She  wondered 
even  at  the  moment  if  he  needed  it,  or  if  this  were  not 
half  a  dramatic  excuse  for  the  spirit,  to  him — for  his 
sufferings  as  an  injured  husband  could  hardly  be  those 
of  a  man  who  had  loved  and  lived  with  his  wife,  or 
the  guarding  of  his  honour  very  much  to  a  man  who 
had  none.  For  a  minute  she  stood  there  still,  watching 
him.  Then  she  saw  him  turn  towards  his  own  room, 
and  with  nerveless  fingers,  her  hands  still  behind  her, 
she  opened  her  bedroom  door  and  slipped  in.  The  turn- 
ing of  the  key  in  the  lock  seemed  to  relax  the  strain, 
for  once  more  she  dropped  down  in  her  easy-chair  and 
clasped  her  hands  over  her  burning  eyes.  A  long,  dry 
sob  wrenched  its  way  from  the  depth  of  her  lungs 
without  her  will,  and  shook  her  whole  body.  She  had 
accomplished  her  own  salvation,  freed  herself  of  a 
danger  too  horrible  to  contemplate,  but  the  reaction 
of  relief  was  almost  more  horrible  than  the  moment  of 
peril.  All  she  knew  was  that  she  had  defended  her 
body  because  it  was  Hervey's,  and  her  soul  stood  in 
arms  for  his  service. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

"Et  puis  tu  viens  a  moi,  et  je  frissone, 
Tu  prends  ma  main,  et  tout  mon  coeur  se  donne 
A  toi  en  un  baiser  brulant  d'emoi, 
Car  tu  es  a  moi !" 

GUY  D'HARDELOT. 

'  I  AHE  Rocks  had  claimed  their  toll.  A  young  man 
walking  in  the  sunshine  of  full  day  had  sud- 
denly become  dazed,  flung  up  his  arms  and  staggered, 
babbling  of  things  that  should  be  locked  in  decent 
silence.  Some  Arabs,  coming  in  with  their  camels 
from  a  desert  village,  found  him  clawing  helplessly 
at  the  lowest  stratum  of  his  executioners  and  took  him 
into  Reserve,  where  they  left  him  at  the  hospital. 

"The  madness  of  the  Rocks  is  upon  him,"  they  said. 
"He  has  felt  their  breath." 

"It  is  the  radiation  of  the  sun's  light  and  heat  rays 
from  the  surface  of  the  rocks,"  said  the  doctor,  trans- 
lating Arab  imagery  into  English  common-sense.  "Not 
sunstroke  exactly,  but  a  kind  of  light-stroke,  one  might 
almost  say.  It  affects  the  eyes.  If  I  wanted  to  be 
laughed  at  I  should  say  the  Rocks  exercised  a  kind  of 
hypnotism  on  some  people." 

He  spoke  to  Rodney  Haines,  who  had  met  the  Arabs 
at  the  mouth  of  the  cutting  and  directed  them  to  the 
hospital.  The  Colonial  Secretary  had  ridden  on  him- 
self as  soon  as  possible  to  inquire  for  the  victim,  whom 

229 


230  EXILE 

he  knew  slightly.     He  was  one  of  the  E.  T.  staff — a 
nice  boy,  who  sometimes  played  bridge  at  the  Club. 

"Poor  Smyth !"  he  said,  and  that  strained  mobile  face 
of  his — the  face  that  should  have  belonged  to  a  cripple 
—was  shadowed  by  the  other  man's  tragedy  as  water 
reflects  light  and  shade.  "I  suppose  there  is  nothing 
to  be  done  for  him?" 

"Nothing,  except  to  keep  him  in  the  dark.  If  one 
could  wipe  the  reflection  of  the  Rocks  off  his  brain 
he'd  be  well  in  an  hour." 

"Will  he  recover?" 

The  doctor  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "He's  young," 
he  said  in  a  non-committal  tone.  "I  expect  he's  been 
working  too  hard  and  out  here  too  long.  The  E.  T. 
staff  are  all  dead  keen  on  wireless  just  now  and  spend 
too  much  time  up  at  the  installation.  The  glare's 
enough  to  kill  a  camel." 

He  would  give  no  further  opinion,  but  the  disaster 
haunted  Rodney  Haines.  He  was  possessed  of  a 
quicker  sympathy  than  his  fellows,  and  could  realise 
where  they  only  heard.  The  Arabs  had  given  their 
own  picturesque  version  of  the  finding  of  Smyth,  and 
the  scene  was  as  patent  to  Haines  as  if  he  had  been 
present.  It  seemed  to  him  pitiful  to  think  of  Smyth, 
upright  in  the  common  day  one  minute  and  the  next 
struck  out  of  his  course,  making  a  zigzag  track  with 
mazed  eyes,  to  spit  his  soul  out  at  the  foot  of  the 
Rocks.  Men  usually  babbled  of  their  religion,  particu- 
larly those  who  had  professed  none,  or  smote  the 
lavaed  surface  with  the  palms  of  their  hands.  Haines 
shivered  slightly  in  the  sunshine  as  he  rode  back  to 
Fort,  and  thrust  his  pith  helmet  over  his  own  eyes. 

At  the  gate  of  Government  House  he  met  Barbara 


EXILE  231 

just  going  down  to  pay  her  promised  visit  to  Mrs. 
Everard,  and  stopped  to  tell  her  the  news,  so  that  she 
carried  it  with  her  and  Mrs.  Everard  learned  it  as  soon 
as  Lady  Stroud. 

"My  husband  has  gone  into  Reserve,"  she  said,  as 
Barbara  settled  her  long  limbs  in  a  rocking-chair  and 
began  to  swing  lazily.  "Perhaps  he  will  bring  back 
better  news." 

"Is  the  Chief  Justice  likely  to  be  back  soon?"  said 
Barbara.  She  was  secretly  hoping  that  he  was  not, 
though  she  had  found  him  very  pleasant  at  the  dance 
("jolly"  was  the  word  Barbara  always  used  to  express 
a  personality  that  made  no  great  demands  on  her 
own)  ;  but  she  did  not  know  that  her  feeling  was  easy 
to  read  in  her  transparent  face  until  she  saw  Mrs. 
Everard  smile. 

"I  do  not  think  he  will  be  home  until  this  evening — 
he  has  business  with  his  clerks,"  she  said  quietly. 

"Oh,  I  did  not  mean "  began  Barbara  in  dismay, 

and  then  laughed  at  herself.  "I  did  hope  I  should  get 
you  to  myself  and  talk  to  you,"  she  admitted. 

"There  is  no  fear  of  interruption,"  said  Claudia 
gently. 

But  the  girl  did  not  talk.  She  sat  gazing  out  through 
the  darkened  jalousies  for  a  few  minutes  with  limpid 
eyes  that  did  not  see  the  slits  of  the  dazzling  outside 
world  between  the  shutters.  Her  long  hands  were 
linked  idly  on  her  knee,  for  even  when  mentally  dis- 
turbed Barbara  Playfair  was  not  restless,  and  on  the 
third  finger  of  the  left  Mrs.  Everard  saw  a  quaint 
filigree  ring — an  Arab  ring  bought  in  the  gold  and 
silver  shops  of  Reserve,  and  worn  as  a  pledge  until 


232  EXILE 

the  diamonds  should  arrive  from  England  to  take  its 
place. 

"Mr.  Everard  is  very  handsome,"  Barbara  said  sud- 
denly at  last. 

"Yes,"  Mrs.  Everard  agreed  composedly.  The 
acknowledgment  did  not  touch  her  new  vision  of  his 
face.  She  had  decided  that  Edgar  was  considered 
handsome  long  ago.  "But  he  is  rather  too  thin  just 
now." 

"I  suppose  you  were  very  much  in  love  with  him 
when  you  married?" 

Claudia  waited  a  moment.  It  did  not  matter  to 
herself  what  she  said.  So  great  and  wonderful  a  thing 
had  happened  to  her  of  late  that  her  marriage  seemed 
to  be  very  far  away — a  trivial  thing  in  comparison, 
that  had  taken  place  while  life  was  still  immature.  But 
to  this  girl  it  might  matter  very  much  what  she  said, 
and  she  spoke  slowly,  as  if  feeling  her  way  in  the  dark. 

"I  do  not  think  I  was  so  very  much  in  love;  I  was 
very  flattered  and  content,  but  a  girl  cannot  have  de- 
veloped the  same  power  of  feeling  as  a  man  many 
years  her  senior.  I  seem  to  remember  my  own  feeling 
as  one  of  great  surprise  that  so  clever  a  man  should  be 
satisfied  with  me  as  I  was  then." 

Barbara's  head  turned  quickly,  and  her  eyes  fixed 
themselves  on  Claudia's  face. 

"But  you  must  always  have  been  beautiful!"  she 
said  simply. 

"Possibly ;  but  I  was  very  undeveloped,  and  in  some 
queer  way  I  knew  that,  and  I  meant  to  grow !  I  think 
that  it  is  a  risk  for  a  man  with  a  very  agile  brain,  like 
my  husband's,  to  marry  a  girl  without  much  experience 
of  life." 


EXILE  233 

Those  blue  eyes,  a  little  wistful,  were  still  fixed  on 
her  face,  and  she  found  it  hard  to  meet  them.  Bar- 
bara's thoughts  seemed  to  rise  in  them  like  visible 
things,  and  Mrs.  Everard  had  a  frightened  feeling 
that  she  had  only  to  look  to  read  what  was  passing  in 
her  mind. 

"Did  you  find  it  very  difficult — to  be  what  he  wanted, 
I  mean  ?"  said  the  girl  rather  breathlessly. 

"It  is  always  difficult  for  a  woman  to  be  what  a 
man  wants!  The  most  selfish  wives  often  seem  the 
most  successful  in  married  life,  because  they  simply 
go  their  own  way  and  do  not  care  if  their  husbands 
are  disappointed." 

"I  don't  think  I  could  do  that,"  said  Barbara  simply. 
"I  should  feel  that  I  was  not  playing  the  game.  It  is 
so  dreadful  to  take  so  much  and  give  so  little." 

"Even  if  the  man  is  satisfied?" 

"They  are  not  satisfied,"  said  the  girl,  with  one  of 
her  sudden  glimpses  of  shrewdness.  "They  are  always 
waiting  for  more !" 

Mrs.  Everard  was  silent  in  her  turn.  She  had  a 
thing  to  say  and  found  great  difficulty  in  saying  it. 
But  out  of  her  own  mighty  experience  a  compelling 
force  drove  her  into  truth  however  overpowering  the 
sound  of  it.  Truth  is  an  inspiration  and  does  not  come 
to  us  every  day.  Therefore  with  stammering  lips  and 
another  tongue  it  is  decreed  that  we  shall  speak  to 
this  people. 

"There  is  only  one  thing  that  really  matters,"  she 
said  baldly,  "and  that  is  the  touchstone  of  love.  If 
you  have  the  least  spark  of  love  for  the  man  you  are 
marrying  it  may  grow.  If  your  heart  is  absolutely 
empty  of  love  for  any  man,  it  is  possible  that  it  may 


234  EXILE 

come  tor  your  husband,  though  that  is  a  risk  that  can 
only  be  justified  by  results.  But  if  you  have  the  least 
spark  of  love  for  any  other  man  than  the  one  you  are 
marrying,  then  it  is  sacrilege  of  the  holy  of  holies.  , 
You  cannot  know  what  you  are  doing,  or  you  would 
not  do  it.  It  is  degrading  body  and  soul  alike.  It  is 
the  sin  against  the  Holy  Ghost." 

She  shut  her  lips  on  the  last  words,  and  there  was 
silence.  Then,  rather  suddenly,  Barbara  rose  to  go. 
She  made  no  conventional  excuse  about  getting  back 
before  the  heat,  as  people  nearly  always  do  in  Exile 
when  in  a  difficulty;  she  simply  held  out  her  hand. 

"Thank  you  very  much,  Mrs.  Everard,"  she  said; 
but  for  what  she  thanked  her  Claudia  could  not  tell, 
because  Barbara  was  not  looking  at  her.  Her  eyes 
were  lowered  once  more,  and  her  face  was  rather  pale. 

"If  you  hear  any  more  about  Mr.  Smyth,  will  you 
let  me  know?"  Mrs.  Everard  said  as  they  parted.  The 
telephone  is  such  a  constant  source  of  communication 
that  news  is  never  stationary  in  Exile. 

"Yes,  I  will,  certainly,"  said  Barbara.  She  hesitated 
for  a  second,  as  if  she  were  going  to  speak,  but  she 
did  not,  and  a  little  later  Claudia  heard  the  motor  roll 
out  of  the  compound  and  down  the  hill. 

She  had  the  bungalow  to  herself,  and  the  empty 
rooms  breathed  peace  and  silence  save  for  her  own 
footfall.  Though  she  had  not  told  Barbara  so,  she 
knew  that  Edgar  Everard  would  not  return  that  even- 
ing, might  not  return  the  next  day,  though  for  appear- 
ance sake  it  was  probable.  He  had  left  a  note  for 
her,  delivered  at  breakfast  time,  in  which  he  said  he 
had  business  in  Reserve  and  should  pass  the  night 
there,  but  she  had  better  keep  his  absence  to  herself. 


EXILE  235 

That  meant  that  he  was  going  to  Hassan's,  or  possibly 
some  house  of  worse  repute  of  which  she  knew  noth- 
ing; but  she  recognised  that  her  confession  of  last 
night  would  be  the  reason  he  would  give  for  his  moral 
lapse  if  accused  of  it,  and  quite  possibly  he  did  wish 
to  go  away  from  her  and  face  this  new  revelation  of 
her  character.  She  must  be  out  of  focus  to  his  mental 
vision,  long  used  to  seeing  her  as  a  mere  complement- 
ary adjunct  to  himself.  She  admitted  coldly  that  he 
had  his  standpoint  and  had  probably  suffered  a  shock. 
But  his  absence  was  an  indefinite  relief,  and  the  new 
menace  of  his  claim  upon  her  successfully  denied  made 
her  almost  gay.  It  seemed  to  her  that  she  had  put  her- 
self for  ever  out  of  his  reach  by  her  confession,  and, 
though  she  regretted  it  on  Hervey's  account,  she  did 
not  think  that  it  could  harm  him  even  through  the  in- 
genuity of  her  husband's  hate.  He  could  not  accuse 
Hervey  of  a  wrong  the  price  of  which  was  his  own 
safety.  He  had  demanded  the  letter  at  all  costs,  and 
had  put  no  limit  on  the  means  to  its  possession. 

"Et  quand  divinement  ta  voix  m'enchaine, 
Je  vois  s'evanouir  toute  ma  peine, 
Et  tout  ton  etre  chante,  et  vibre  en  raoi — " 

Qaudia  sang  softly  to  herself  as  she  moved  about 
the  house,  and  her  own  voice  was  rich  and  happy  in 
her  own  ears.  At  midday  the  Arab  butler  brought  her 
a  chit  that  had  been  delivered  by  hand,  and  then  sud- 
denly the  blood  rushed  to  her  heart  and  beat  behind 
her  eyes,  denying  her  own  impatience  for  the  minute 
and  blinding  her  eager  sight.  For  it  was  from  Her- 
vey, and  she  forgot  that  he  had  broken  their  compact 
in  her  first  recognition  of  his  handwriting. 


236  EXILE 

"I  cannot  wait  any  longer — you  are  trying  me  too  far," 
he  wrote,  without  further  beginning.  "You  promised  to 
write,  to  tell  me  when  I  might  see  you.  Do  you  know  that 
it  is  three  days  and  over  since  you  left  me?  You  told  me 
that  you  loved  me — if  you  had,  you  would  not  have  kept  me 
without  a  word.  I  do  not  believe  it  any  more — it  was  a  ruse 
to  get  what  you  bargained  for;  but  it  was  an  unnecessary 
refinement  of  cruelty,  because  I  had  given  my  word,  and 
should  have  kept  it  anyhow.  I  know  you  will  be  alone 
to-night — I  heard  it  by  chance.  I  shall  be  at  my  house  in 
Reserve.  If  there  was  any  truth  in  your  protestations,  you 
will  find  the  means  of  coming  out  to  me  waiting  in  the  road 
below  your  house  to-night.  I  will  send  you  a  guide — but 
I  do  not  expect  you  to  come.  No  woman  ever  gave  me  so 
beautiful  a  gift  as  you  offered — why  should  you  be  any 
different  to  the  rest?  Perhaps  I  ought  to  thank  you  for 
even  having  invented  the  lie. 

"RICHMOND." 

The  blood  had  rushed  to  Claudia's  white  face  as 
she  began  to  read  and  then  left  her  as  colourless  as 
before.  Her  eyes  grew  wet  and  then  full  of  tender 
laughter,  and  her  upper  lip  lifted  a  little  as  if  it  kissed 
the  empty  air.  Of  all  fierce  love-letters  that  a  woman 
ever  received,  surely  this  was  the  strangest !  Then  her 
face  clouded  a  little  as  if  trouble  outweighed  happiness. 
The  one  thing  that  was  unendurable  was  that  he  should 
doubt  her  love.  She  had  no  means  of  reassuring  him, 
of  communicating  with  him  even,  and  it  seemed  long 
to  wait  for  night.  The  risk  was  nothing — even  if 
Everard  had  returned  she  would  have  attempted  it 
now,  in  the  cause  of  that  doubt;  but  he  did  not  come, 
and  towards  evening  she  grew  quieter  because  her  mind 
was  made  up  and  her  plans  arranged. 

Her  own  room  opened  on  to  the  verandah,  and  it 
was  not  impossible  to  slip  past  the  drawing-room  and 


EXILE  237 

to  the  steps  leading  to  the  compound.  The  bungalow 
was  raised  above  the  ground  to  allow  for  ventilation, 
and  she  dared  not  jump  from  her  own  balcony  on  to 
the  gravel  beneath  for  fear  of  arousing  the  Arab  staff. 
As  it  was  she  carried  her  reputation,  almost  her  life,  in 
her  hand ;  but  whatever  happened  he  should  not  doubt 
her.  That  was  an  outrage  on  her  love  and  its  "beauti- 
ful gift."  He  had  stated  no  time,  but  she  was  not 
going  out  to-night,  and  at  ten  o'clock  she  told  the 
servants  to  shut  up  the  house  and  went  to  her  room. 
Her  heart  seemed  to  beat  time  to  the  pulse  of  the 
world,  and  the  deliberate  movements  of  the  Arabs 
lasted  an  eternity.  At  last,  when  the  bungalow  was 
dark,  and  the  sound  even  of  bare  feet  had  died  away, 
she  wrapped  herself  in  a  silk  shawl — the  darkest  thing 
she  had — and  flung  her  grey  motor  veil  over  her  head. 
She  had  already  opened  her  jalousies  to  the  verandah, 
and  having  put  out  the  light  she  stepped  into  the  dark- 
ness. 

Beyond  her,  all  along  the  residential  quarter  of  Fort, 
the  lights  of  other  bungalows  twinkled  so  brightly  that 
she  pressed  herself  back  against  the  wall  aghast.  It 
seemed  to  her  that  if  she  could  see  them  so  plainly 
their  owners  must  see  her.  Then  she  remembered  that 
even  if  discovered  by  her  servants  she  could  say  she 
came  out  for  the  cooler  air.  She  had  often  been  on 
the  verandah  later  than  this.  She  carried  her  slippers 
in  her  hand  and  walked  noiselessly  past  the  drawing- 
room  windows,  then  on  to  the  steps,  and  so  like  a 
mantled  ghost  into  the  compound.  It  was  darker  here, 
there  being  no  lights  from  the  bungalow.  She  moved 
by  the  mud  wall,  and  then  remembered  that  the  gate 
might  be  locked.  It  was  high  and  heavy,  and  to  climb 


238  EXILE 

over  was  hazardous,  though  possible.  But  the  latch 
gave  to  her  shaking  hands,  and  a  minute  later  she  was 
in  the  road,  safe  from  observation,  since  it  led  nowhere 
but  to  their  own  house. 

She  had  not  troubled  as  yet  as  to  how  she  should 
get  back,  though  however  late  the  Arabs  locked  the 
gate  it  would  surely  be  secure  at  dawn  when  she  must 
return.  But  all  her  heart  was  set  on  reaching  Hervey, 
her  desire  seemed  to  outrun  her  feet,  and  she  had  no 
thought  for  to-morrow  before  to-night  was  fulfilled. 
Not  twenty  yards  down  the  road  she  fell  back  with  a 
suppressed  cry,  for  in  the  shadow  of  the  high  wall  that 
guarded  their  own  compound  rose  a  tall  turbaned 
figure.  He  was  a  camel-driver,  and  the  distorted  out- 
line of  his  camel  was  dimly  visible  behind  him.  She 
had  not  thought  how  she  was  to  reach  Reserve — had 
perhaps  looked  vaguely  for  a  car;  but  in  a  minute  it 
flashed  across  her  mind  that  this  was  the  safest  dis- 
guise, and  she  made  a  hesitating  movement  towards 
the  waiting  group.  The  camel-driver  did  not  hesitate 
at  all.  He  lifted  a  long  black  cloak,  the  kameese  that 
Arab  women  wear  out  of  doors,  and  wrapped  it  com- 
pletely over  Mrs.  Everard,  head  and  all.  She  drew  it 
quickly  across  her  face,  finding  the  eyelet  holes  after 
a  minute,  and  grasping  her  arm  he  led  her  to  the  camel 
and  assisted  her  to  mount.  Then  the  beast  rose  with 
hardly  a  sound,  and  swinging  round  went  down  the 
steep  incline,  his  driver  leading  him  by  the  nose-rope. 

It  was  a  big  bull  riding-camel,  and  the  motion  was 
not  rough.  Mrs.  Everard  sat  on  the  native  saddle,  one 
foot  round  the  wooden  peg,  the  other  resting  on  the 
beast's  neck,  her  figure  muffled  beyond  recognition  in 
the  black  kameese.  The  progress  seemed  slow  com- 


EXILE  239 

pared  to  a  motor  or  even  a  carriage,  but  the  wide  shuf- 
fling stride  carried  them  over  the  ground  quicker  than 
appeared  possible,  and  from  her  high  position  Claudia 
Everard  looked  round  upon  the  world  as  if  she  had 
never  seen  it  before.  Above  her  towered  the  Rocks, 
pointing  jaggedly  amongst  the  stars,  and  below  her  lay 
the  dark  line  of  the  sea  and  the  ships  at  anchor.  Fort 
lay  behind  her,  for  they  were  rapidly  nearing  the  Cut- 
ting, and  no  motor  cars  passed  them,  for  it  was  too 
late  for  any  one  to  be  coming  back  from  Reserve  now. 
All  the  life  of  Fort  lay  higher  up  on  the  rocky  ledges, 
where  people  were  motoring  in  and  out  the  curving 
roads  to  each  other's  bungalows.  There  was  a  dinner 
at  the  Bunney's  to-night,  and  a  meeting  of  the  Debating 
Society  after  it.  She  remembered  it  with  a  little  still 
wonder,  as  at  something  very  far  off  instead  of  only  a 
few  miles  away.  And  still  that  swinging  stride  of  the 
camel  carried  her  on  through  the  flashing  darkness, 
whither  her  desire  went  before  her.  She  knew  that  she 
should  never  forget  this  ride — the  mystery  of  it,  the 
sense  of  lawlessness,  of  high  adventure.  She  could 
have  laughed  like  a  girl,  and  her  blood  raced  through 
her  warm  veinsv 

Once  or  twice  they  passed  other  camels  going  home 
to  Reserve,  ridden  or  led  by  Arabs,  draped  figures  on 
foot  hardly  discernible  in  the  night  for  the  ragged 
natives  of  the  day.  Her  own  camel  was  so  much 
swifter  and  easier  that  Claudia  seemed  to  pass  them  all 
by  as  the  rider  of  a  thoroughbred  passes  mere  traffic 
horses.  They  came  out  of  the  cutting  on  to  the  broad 
road  leading  to  Reserve,  and  below  them  flared  the 
town,  with  a  far-off  mingling  of  sound  going  up  from 
its  native  quarter,  the  clamour  of  strange  instruments, 


240  EXILE 

the  chant  of  voices,  and  the  echo  of  laughter.  Along 
the  road  they  swung,  past  the  dark  prison  and  the  court 
house,  and  into  the  narrow  byeways  of  the  city.  She 
had  never  been  to  this  house  of  Hervey's,  and  did  not 
know  where  it  stood,  but  it  was  the  same  to  which  he 
had  invited  Lady  Stroud  and  Barbara  to  tea,  and  in 
the  heart  of  the  streets.  The  Arab  driver  called  to  the 
passers-by  to  get  out  of  the  way,  and  they  turned  and 
looked  at  the  veiled  figure  lifted  high  over  their  heads, 
but  without  much  curiosity.  High-class  Mahomedan 
ladies  go  out  by  night  rather  than  by  day,  and  it  was 
not  unusual  for  them  to  travel  so.  Had  Claudia  ap- 
peared in  a  car,  however  thickly  veiled,  her  secret 
might  have  been  suspected ;  but  the  great  bull  camel  was 
a  safe  convoy. 

They  turned  into  a  narrow  alley-way,  instead  of 
stopping  at  the  carved  doorway  where  the  Govern- 
ment House  party  had  alighted.  As  the  camel  knelt 
down  the  reek  of  the  streets  came  up  into  Claudia's 
nostrils,  and  through  and  over  it  all  that  strange  scent 
of  powdered  woods  and  spices  that  she  had  smelt  in 
Hassan's  house.  She  had  a  feeling  of  a  dream,  oi 
having  come  to  her  lover  in  just  such  a  manner  ages 
ago,  as  she  entered  the  door  in  the  wall  which  opened 
to  the  summons  of  her  guide.  There  was  another 
man  inside  with  a  lamp,  which  he  held  high  to  throw 
the  light  on  a  narrow  flight  of  stairs,  and  without  a 
word  having  passed  Claudia  gathered  up  her  draperies 
round  her  and  climbed  up  the  stairs  before  him,  emerg- 
ing in  a  narrow  room  like  a  cupboard  where  she  stood 
still  and  waited.  The  silence  in  which  she  had  jour- 
neyed throughout  seemed  to  her  as  part  of  the  dream, 
and  it  was  not  broken  until  the  man  with  the  lamp 


EXILE  241 

opened  a  door  in  front  of  her  and  said  "Al  Siyyidha!" 
which  is  the  term  for  a  lady  of  high  rank  rather  than 
the  more  usual  "Al  Sitt."  Then  she  stepped  from  the 
cupboard-room  into  the  big  apartment  where  Lady 
Stroud  and  Barbara  had  had  tea,  and  the  door  closed 
behind  her. 

There  was  light  in  the  large  space  before  her,  though 
that  portion  of  it  which  was  open  to  the  upper  air 
showed  only  the  black  velvet  of  a  night  sky  embroid- 
ered with  stars.  The  light  came  from  two  old  brass 
lanterns,  and  was  softened  from  the  white  glare  of  elec- 
tricity to  a  coloured  glow.  It  shone  on  a  great  divan 
piled  with  silk  cushions,  and  a  mass  of  potato  flower 
which  was  growing  in  some  hidden  tub  or  pot.  The 
trails  of  leaves  and  blossoms  were  welcome  amongst 
the  tall  palms  that  made  a  little  green  oasis  near  the 
staircase,  and  all  round  the  walls  hung  dull  silk  curtains 
instead  of  wall  paper.  Draperies  were  so  uncommon 
in  Exile  that  they  made  a  welcome  change.  Rich- 
mond Hervey  was  standing  on  the  further  side  of  the 
room  with  his  back  to  the  door  by  which  Claudia  had 
entered,  near  a  bookcase  from  which  he  had  taken  a 
volume  and  was  reading  it  in  a  desultory  fashion,  as 
if  he  had  not  decided  whether  or  no  to  sit  down  to  it 
seriously.  At  the  sound  of  the  Arab's  announcement 
he  tossed  it  aside,  and  turned  quickly  to  the  dark 
veiled  figure,  standing  still  where  it  had  entered. 
"Claudia!"  he  said  below  his  breath.  "Claudia!" 
His  voice  shook  a  little,  and  his  hands  were  not 
quite  steady  as  he  unwound  the  black  kameese  and 
took  her  silk  shawl  from  her.  She  stood  still,  letting 
the  disguising  draperies  fall  from  her  to  the  floor, 
where  they  lay  unheeded.  There  was  an  instant's 


242  EXILE 

pause,  as  between  the  flash  of  cannon  and  the  rever- 
beration, and  then  his  powerful  grasp  almost  lifted  her 
into  his  arms,  and  he  bent  her  head  back  with  the 
weight  of  his  kiss.  For  a  full  moment  her  breath  was 
stayed,  and  when  their  lips  parted  she  could  hardly  say 
"How  could  you  doubt  me!" 

"I  never  doubted  you!"  he  answered,  and  there  was 
a  little  apologetic  laugh  in  his  level  eyes.  They  were 
usually  the  coldest  thing  about  him,  and  now  they  were 
the  warmest.  Claudia's  own  gaze  faltered  a  little  be- 
neath them,  and  she  flushed  as  generously  as  a  girl. 

"But  you  told  me  you  did  not  believe  it !  You  said 
I  did  not  love  you !" 

"If  I  hadn't  pretended  to  doubt  you,  would  you  have 
come  to  me  to-night?" 

"Oh,  Ritchie!" 

"I  was  obliged  to  have  you.  I  knew  nothing  else 
would  bring  you — so  I  wrote  that."  He  stopped  to 
brush  her  eyes  with  his  lips,  the  lids  being  still  lowered. 
"Was  I  very  rude?" 

"Brutal!" 

"I'm  not  a  bit  sorry — since  it  answered." 

"Perhaps  I  can  make  you " 

"No,  my  beauty!  You  won't  spoil  it?  I  have  so 

little  of  you,  as  it  is! — and  it  was  three  days " 

His  confidence  was  altering  to  anxiety,  to  dismay,  when 
she  lifted  her  dense  lashes  and  he  saw  that  she  was 
laughing. 

"You  do  deserve  to  be  punished !"  she  said.  "That 
letter  was  outrageous.  Well,  what  will  you  do  with 
me  now  that  you  have  got  me  ?" 

"Love  you  to  death,  I  think !" 

He  lifted  her  gently  and  carried  her  to  the  divan 


EXILE  243 

where  he  laid  her  down  on  the  piled  cushions  and  sat 
down  beside  her,  his  face  towards  her.  "Now  we  can 
talk  in  true  Arab  fashion,"  he  said.  "Do  you  like  my 
house,  Idol?" 

"Yes,  indeed  I  do !  It  is  all  part  of  the  glad  adven- 
ture. I  should  like  to  wear  Eastern  silks  and  have  that 
strange  scent  in  my  clothes  that  Arab  women  have  and 
live  here  with  you !" 

"It  is  all  yours  at  the  word!" 

She  laughed  a  little.  "It  would  be  like  living  in 
the  Arabian  Nights !  I  wonder  if  we  should  all  become 
more  Eastern  and  less  British  if  we  lived  in  real  Arab 
houses  like  this?  I  do  think  that  Government  bun- 
galows are  unnecessarily  hideous.  Look  at  the  one 
they  have  just  built  for  the  Admiral  out  at  Health !" 

"It  is  the  mixture  of  styles  that  worries  you,"  said 
Hervey,  with  ironical  gravity.  "Of  course  the  lower 
part  is  Doric,  but  I  think  the  upper  part  is  Early  Dog- 
kennel!" 

They  both  laughed,  for  the  structure  in  question  re- 
sembled nothing  so  much  as  an  ugly  museum.  "What 
a  comfort  it  is  to  talk  to  somebody  who  can  see  things !" 
Claudia  said.  "If  I  had  critcised  the  new  Government 
House  to  any  one  at  Fort  they  would  have  reminded 
me  that  it  cost  several  thousands  to  build." 

"Some  people  can  never  see  beyond  the ,  pence 
column.  Claudia,  what  is  it  that  makes  us  so  necessary 
to  each  other?  I  don't  know  how  else  to  express  it, 
but  the  want  of  you  used  to  make  me  think  I  hated 
you,  and  it  was  not  until  I  understood  that  I  realised 
how  I  had  been  fighting  the  strongest  thing  that  ever 
came  into  my  life." 

"I  can  only  explain  it  by  a  theory,"  she  answered 


244  EXILE 

slowly,  as  if  struggling  for  the  right  words.  "There 
is  an  idea — some  scientific  men  hold  it,  I  believe — 
that  every  single  soul  in  the  world  is  only  half — that 
somewhere  or  other  there  exists  the  other  half  that 
makes  it  whole.  It  may  be  a  great  queen  whose  other 
half  is  a  monk,  or  a  savage,  or  some  poor  criminal 
working  in  her  own  prisons ! — but  somewhere  or  other 
there  is,  or  was,  the  other  soul  that  makes  her  com- 
plete. Of  course,  no  one  in  a  million  ever  chances  to 
meet  with  his  other  self.  The  whole  world  may  lie 
between — death  may  intervene — a  hundred  things  may 
happen.  But  if  they  do  meet  by  some  miracle  the 
desire — no,  the  necessity,  as  you  say — is  so  strong 
between  them  that  nothing  on  earth  will  keep  them 
apart  except  some  perversion  of  their  own  will.  You 
and  I  happened  to  meet — that  was  all." 

"And  I  was  blind!" 

"Not  really;  all  that  anger  in  you  against  me  was 
simply  the  resentment  of  your  whole  nature  at  being 
thwarted,  I  suppose.  You  would  have  found  out  some 
day — quite  possibly  after  I  had  gone  away.  That  was 
what  I  was  afraid  of." 

He  trembled  a  little,  all  through  his  big  frame,  as 
if  the  risk  he  had  run  of  losing  her  came  home  to  him 
suddenly.  "I  want  to  feel  sure,"  he  said  hoarsely.  "I 
want  to  take  you  now  and  leave  nothing  to  chance. 
This  is  not  a  thing  to  play  with." 

But  a  shadow  fell  on  her  face.  "It  might  injure 
you,  Ritchie!  I  ought  to  warn  you — I  had  to  tell 
Edgar  Everard  what  I  had  done." 

She  lifted  her  eyes  steadily  to  his  face,  not  afraid 
of  condemnation,  though  as  if  asking  for  his  opinion. 
But  he  nodded,  unmoved. 


EXILE  245 

"Quite  right;  I  am  glad  you  did  so.  I  hope  he 
understood  ?" 

"Only  what  I  told  him."  She  was  silent  a  moment, 
and  then  her  speech  grew  more  hurried.  "It  was 
necessary  to  tell  him — it  was  my  own  safeguard." 

"What!"  He  laid  his  hands  on  her  shoulders  and 
gripped  her  as  if  he  feared  to  let  go  of  her  for  one 
instant.  "He  claimed  his  rights?" 

"He  has  none !"  she  said,  lifting  those  wine-coloured 
eyes  in  quiet  reproach.  "But  I  had  to  make  it  under- 
stood." 

"You  must  not  go  back  to  him — you  must  not  leave 
me  again !"  he  said,  and  his  voice  was  not  quite  under 
control. 

"Oh,  yes ;  it  is  quite  safe  now.  That  is  why  he  went 
into  Reserve.  I  do  not  think  the  subject  will  ever  be 
mentioned  between  us  again."  She  moved  a  little 
restlessly,  as  if  putting  something  distasteful  away 
from  her.  "Let  us  talk  of  something  else,"  she  said — 
"something  happy." 

"Then  we  shall  have  to  go  back  three  days." 

There  came  a  flood  of  sweetness  into  her  face.  "It 
does  seem  an  age  since,  doesn't  it?"  she  said.  "And 
yet  I  have  been  very  content.  It  was  such  a  relief  to 
know  that  you  knew." 

"I  know  better  now  than  I  did  then,"  he  said  slowly, 
and  she  saw  that  it  was  true.  There  was  something 
gentler  and  more  reverent  in  him,  something  more  sat- 
isfied and  less  eager  to  grasp  at  actual  bliss.  He  sat 
beside  her  with  her  hands  in  his,  but  he  was  so  happy 
in  her  nearness  that  he  did  not  even  kiss  her  again. 
"I've  been  clearing  things  up — getting  ready  for  the 
time  when  we  are  together." 


246  EXILE 

"I  think  I  shall  be  able  to  go  to  Europe  in  a  few 
weeks,"  she  said.  "But  if  it  can't  be  done  that  way 
I  will  simply — go." 

"And  meet  me  at  the  Port?" 

"Somewhere." 

He  sat  and  looked  at  her  again,  with  that  gaze  that 
made  her  half  shy  and  sweetly  ashamed.  "Do  you 
know  that  I  thought  you  were  in  love  with  Haines?" 
he  said,  and  then  drew  a  deep  breath.  "If  you  had 
been,  how  it  would  have  altered  the  world — left  it  in 
the  dark!" 

"Rodney  Haines!"  she  said,  and  her  dreamy  eyes 
came  wide  open  with  amazement.  "Oh,  Ritchie,  how 
could  you  be  so  intensely  stupid  ?  I  told  you  you  were 
stupid  the  other  night,  didn't  I!  How  could  I  be  in 
love  with  Rodney  Haines?" 

"I  don't  know — now.  But  you  always  seemed  to 
like  him  so  much." 

"Why,  so  I  do.  So  do  you.  He  is  so  pitiful,  and 
he  will  have  to  suffer  so !" 

"He  is  an  artist — and  then  his  music  is  enough  to 
make  any  one  love  him.  When  he  plays " 

"When  he  plays — I  always  want  to  kiss — some  one 
else  1"  said  Claudia,  and  her  mouth  curved  to  an  uncon- 
scious invitation  which  he  accepted. 

"So  you  think  Haines  is  going  to  suffer  through 
that  girl?"  he  said  while  he  still  leaned  over  her,  his 
voice  a  caress  that  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  subject. 

"She  does  not  care  for  him  at  all!"  said  Claudia 
thoughtfully,  outlining  with  one  slight  finger  the  thick 
growth  of  the  grey  hair  on  his  temples.  "She  is  not 
capable  of  doing  so.  If  she  had  been  let  alone  she 


EXILE  247 

would  have  fallen  in  love  with  Mr.  Merryn  in  the 
natural  course  of  things." 

"With  Merryn!"  said  Hervey,  raising  his  level  eye- 
lids a  little  and  smiling  down  at  her.  The  smile,  like 
the  love  in  his  voice,  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  sub- 
ject. He  did  not  care  in  the  least  about  the  Flag- 
Lieutenant,  but  the  touch  of  Claudia's  fingers  on  his 
temples  was  giving  him  acute  pleasure.  "But  I  don't 
think  they  would  ever  think  of  such  a  thing." 

"I  said  in  the  natural  course  of  things,"  said  Claudia 
calmly.  "They  have  never  had  a  chance  to  think !  Mr. 
Haines,  with  his  intense  personality,  his  eagerness,  his 
intensity,  has  swept  things  very  much  out  of  their 
natural  course." 

He  looked  at  her,  still  smiling,  and  drew  the  cool 
palms  of  her  hands  again  against  his  face.  The  harsh 
contact  of  the  clean-shaven  skin  ran  over  her  nerves 
like  electricity.  "How  do  you  know  all  this,  Wisdom  ?" 
he  said. 

"The  girl  came  and  talked  to  me — more  than  she 
knew.  Her  trouble  is  making  her  almost  expressive. 
Before  that  she  was  a  fine,  empty  thing.  Love  is  a 
great  education,  Richmond ;  even  to  come  near  it,  when 
you  don't  share  it,  is  something." 

"Yes,"  he  said  gravely.  "It  is  impossible  to  be  un- 
conscious in  the  presence  of  a  god,  though  you  do  not 
worship  and  depart  unblessed." 

And  then  they  were  both  very  silent  for  a  minute, 
and  the  night  went  solemnly  across  the  heavens  with 
all  its  stars  in  procession. 

"Are  you  tired  ?"  Hervey  said  at  last.  "You  had  a 
long  ride  here,  and  it  is  late." 


248  EXILE 

"A  little.  But  this  divan  is  very  restful.  And — I 
thought — I  should  have  to  go  back  soon !" 

"Not  yet — not  for  some  hours.  Would  you  like 
to  come  up  on  to  the  roof  and  look  at  the  city?" 

He  put  his  arm  round  her  and  led  her  up  the  stairs 
to  the  women's  quarters,  where  Barbara  had  protested 
against  the  lack  of  liberty.  They  were  safe  from  pry- 
ing eyes  under  the  high  coping  of  the  roof,  but  through 
the  narrow  slits  in  the  masonry  Claudia  could  see  far 
more  than  had  seemed  possible  of  the  packed  white 
buildings  and  the  gulfs  of  streets  running  through 
them.  Hervey's  house  was  higher  than  those  near  it, 
and  the  uneven  angles  and  elevations  of  the  roofs 
around  made  Reserve  a  city  touched  with  magic,  a 
phantom  jumble  designed  by  genii.  There  was  no 
moon  as  yet,  but  it  was  quite  visible  by  starlight. 

"  'And  at  night  we'd  find  a  town, 

Flat-roofed,  by  a  star-strewn  sea!" 

she  quoted, 

"Where  the  pirate  hoards  come  down 
To  a  long- forgotten  quay'  " — 

He  laughed,  and  took  up  the  quotation. 

"  'And  we'd  meet  them  in  the  gloaming, 
Tarry  pig-tails,  back  from  roaming, 
With  a  pot  of  pirate  ginger  for  the  likes  of  her 
and  me!'" 

"Do  you  like  ginger?" 

"Of  course,  if  it's  pirate  ginger!  Was  there  ever 
a  more  Eastern  description?  'We  could  smell  the 
mules  and  musk!'  I  am  so  glad  you  know  Chalmers." 


EXILE  249 

"I  read  a  good  deal.  I  have  often  read  myself  to 
sleep  up  here,  when  there's  a  moon."  , 

"Do  you  always  sleep  here?" 

"Always,  when  I  am  in  Reserve.  The  dawn  wakes 
me." 

She  threw  her  head  back  with  a  long  sigh  of  pleas- 
ure, to  look  up  into  the  sky  and  see  Orion,  belted 
with  stars,  the  drawn  sword  in  his  hand.  Of  all  the 
constellations  she  loved  him  best,  and  it  seemed  as 
if  the  angel  with  the  flaming  sword  kept  watch  above 
her. 

"He  has  unlocked  the  gates  of  Paradise  again," 
she  said  dreamily.  "Richmond,  I  can  think  of  noth- 
ing more  beautiful  than  to  have  the  free  sky  over 
my  head  and  the  stars  to  shine  on  me  till  morning — 
with  you."  She  felt  his  hand  clasping  her  own,  and 
the  growing  union  between  them  that  needed  less  of 
touch  and  yet  was  divinely  closer. 

The  streets  had  fallen  upon  quiet.  All  the  busy 
life  of  the  city  seemed  to  have  died  down  with  its 
flare  of  lights,  and  in  that  sleeping  mass  of  packed 
humanity  there  were  none  more  quiescent  than  them- 
selves. The  night  went  solemnly  across  the  heavens, 

with  all  its  stars  in  procession. 

***** 

In  the  dawn  she  rode  back  to  Fort,  the  forward 
swing  of  the  camel  seeming  too  hasty  now  in  carry- 
ing her  away  from  great  content.  The  soundless 
tread  of  the  great  beast's  spreading  feet  and  the  stride 
of  the  barefoot  driver  gave  her  the  same  dreamlike 
impression  of  a  dream  moving  in  a  dream  through 
the  half-tones  of  the  early  day.  The  Arab  is  not  an 
early  riser  in  Reserve,  or  if  he  is  he  keeps  within  his 


250  EXILE 

silent  house,  for  the  mud-caked  streets  were  empty 
save  for  the  few  natives  coming  into  the  town,  who 
looked  with  indifference  at  her  as  some  Mahomedan 
lady  starting  on  a  journey  into  the  desert.  Beneath 
the  kameese  she  sat  in  tranquil  silence,  her  grave, 
long-lashed  eyes  on  the  broad  road  and  the  Rocks, 
which  were  stabbing  the  colourless  sky  with  colour- 
less outlines.  When  they  emerged  from  the  Cutting 
the  first  faint  light  from  the  coming  sun  was  quick- 
ening the  east,  but  she  would  be  home  before  he  rose. 
She  had  not  thought  as  to  how  she  was  to  get  into 
the  compound  again,  but  as  they  reached  the  gate  the 
Arab  driver  stopped  his  camel  close  beside  it,  and 
she  found  that  without  his  kneeling  down  she  could 
step  from  the  saddle  on  to  the  broad  topmost  bar 
with  perfect  ease,  and  to  descend  on  the  other  side 
was  easy. 

"That  is  Na-sib!"  said  the  Arab  under  his  breath, 
with  his  race's  belief  in  luck  or  Providence. 

He  took  the  black  kameese  from  her  as  she  reached 
the  ground,  flung  it  on  to  the  camel,  and  disappeared 
with  the  same  swift  noiselessness. 

Claudia  walked  quietly  up  the  steps  to  the  closed 
door,  without  haste  or  uneasiness,  stepped  aside  on 
to  the  verandah,  and  made  her  way  along  it  to  her 
own  room.  The  jalousies  were  unlatched  as  she  had 
left  them;  she  slipped  out  of  her  clothes  and  into 
bed,  and  when  the  ayah  came  to  call  her  some  hours 
later  she  was  sleeping  sweetly. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

"Not  unto  us,  O  Lord ; 

Nay,  Lord,  but  unto  her  be  all  things  given — 
May  life  and  light  and  earth  and  sky  be  blasted — 
But  let  not  all  that  wealth  of  love  be  wasted. 
Let  Hell  afford 
The  pavement  of  her  Heaven!" 

HENRY  CUST. 

IT  happened  that  the  next  morning  was  the  one 
on  which  Mrs.  Everard  had  a  lesson  in  Arabic. 
Her  teacher  arrived  about  ten  o'clock,  and  they  sat 
in  the  hard,  clean  drawing-room  with  the  electric 
fans  going,  pouring  over  their  Arabic  grammar,  or 
in  limited  conversation  about  "Kaleel  wa  Dineah" 
(the  "Arabian  Nights").  Said  was  a  young  man, 
with  the  most  beautiful  type  of  Arab  face,  beardless 
as  yet,  deep  coloured,  and  grave  with  the  gravity  of 
his  race.  He  smiled  seldom,  but  when  he  did  so  it 
was  so  winning  that  it  made  Mrs.  Everard  greedy  to 
see  it  again.  She  lay  in  wait  for  it  throughout  the 
lesson,  tempting  him  with  her  poor  Arabic,  or  in- 
quiring for  his  family.  He  was  a  Bedouin  and  mar- 
ried to  one  wife  already,  though  he  looked  barely 
twenty.  Mrs.  Everard  was  a  diligent  pupil,  but  she 
left  the  problems  of  Nahwooh,  and  turned  from  "Ism 
kana"  and  "naib  Alfael"  to  beguile  him  into  local 
interests. 

"Is  your  house  finished  yet,  Said?" 

251 


252  EXILE 

"Not  yet,  ya  Sitt.  But  in  a  few  weeks  it  will  be 
ready." 

"And  where  are  you  living  now?" 

"With  my  family.  There  are  many  houses  in  the 
village." 

"I  must  come  and  see  your  village  some  day,  Said. 
Is  it  far?" 

The  Arab  looked  pleased.  He  had  a  deep  admira- 
tion for  the  beautiful  wife  of  the  Chief  Justice, 
though  he  hated  the  latter  with  all  the  fearlessness 
of  his  race  and  for  reasons  which  Claudia  did  not 
even  suspect.  Everard's  excesses  in  Banishment  were 
inevitably  known  to  the  tribes  as  far  as  Health  and 
out  beyond  into  the  real  country  of  Arabia.  He 
was  "ibn  kelb"  (the  son  of  a  dog),  and  infinitely  de- 
graded from  the  Bedouins'  point  of  view,  since  he 
not  only  stole  his  neighbour's  wife — if  he  could  get 
her — but  drank  and  took  cocaine.  Said  knew  far 
more  of  the  private  life  of  Claudia's  legal  husband 
than  any  white  man  in  Exile,  where  it  was  only  the 
outline  of  a  scandal,  and  it  concerned  him  that  Sitt 
Indahu  Everard  should  remain  in  the  possession  of 
such  a  one.  Had  it  been  his  own  sister  or  cousin  he 
would  have  made  her  quarrel  his  own,  though  an 
Arab  wife  is  so  much  the  property  of  her  husband 
that  she  has  hardly  any  wrongs;  but  Said  was  suffi- 
ciently educated  to  know  that  the  position  of  a  Euro- 
pean lady  makes  such  scandals  as  Everard's  a  gross 
insult  to  her. 

He  answered  Claudia's  inquiry  by  stating  that  his 
village  was  some  two  miles  from  Golgotha,  where 
Hervey  Sahib  had  his  house. 

"If  ya  Sitt  would  tell  me  the  day  on  which  she 


EXILE  253 

would  be  pleased  to  visit  us  I  would  bring  my  jamal 
for  her  and  show  her  the  way." 

"But  if  I  ride  the  jamal  (camel),  Said,  you  must 
go  on  foot,  and  it  will  be  a  long  walk  for  you  over 
the  sand!"  said  Claudia  kindly.  Her  heart  had  leapt 
in  her  side  at  the  mention  of  Hervey's  bungalow, 
for  she  saw  an  opportunity  for  a  meeting  with  him 
after  the  expedition.  She  could  order  a  gharry  to 
drive  out  to  Golgotha,  and,  leaving  Said  and  his 
camel  there,  stop  at  the  bungalow  on  her  way  home. 

"It  is  not  too  far,  and  the  jamal  is  a  young  one, 
so  that  I  must  lead  him,"  said  Said,  and  one  of  his 
rare  smiles  made  his  face  beautiful  exceedingly.  "Ya 
Sitt  would  be  frightened  if  he  started  to  jump  and 
play!" 

"I  should  not  only  be  frightened — I  should  fall 
off!"  said  Claudia  laughing.  "I  have  seen  a  'buck- 
ing' jamal"  (she  used  the  English  word).  "But  I 
am  very  fond  of  jamal-riding,  Said,  and  I  shall  like 
to  come.  Would  next  Saturday  suit  you?" 

Saturday  would  suit  Said  very  well,  and  the  mat- 
ter was  arranged.  They  had  talked  in  Arabic 
throughout,  and  Claudia  had  spoken  fairly  fluently. 
The  lesson  was  now  over,  and  the  young  teacher 
made  his  farewell,  moving  with  the  grace  of  a  free 
people,  and  neither  awkward  nor  subservient  in  his 
obeisance.  Said  was  a  teacher  in  one  of  the  Govern- 
ment schools  in  Reserve,  and  spoke  English  with 
more  ease  than  Claudia  did  Arabic;  but  his  home 
was  out  in  the  desert,  and  he  rode  out  there  on  cer- 
tain days  in  the  week. 

As  he  departed  he  met  a  visitor  coming  in,  who 
turned  sharply  and  stared  at  him  with  a  lack  of 


25.4  EXILE 

manners  that  Said  associated  with  white  men.  He 
disliked  the  Crown  Prosecutor  nearly  as  much  as  the 
Chief  Justice,  and  found  him  hideous  into  the  bar- 
gain. Murgatroyd's  ungainly  body  and  livid  face, 
with  its  cavernous  eyes,  seemed  to  the  young  Arab 
those  of  a  person  accurst  by  God.  Indeed,  he  shud- 
dered, and  made  a  sign  to  avert  the  evil  eye  as  they 
passed  each  other. 

Mr.  Murgatroyd  was  fortunate  in  finding  Mrs. 
Everard  willing  to  receive  him,  for  at  this  hour  she 
usually  denied  herself  to  visitors.  But  she  had  hardly 
risen,  and  was  still  fingering  the  lesson  books  when 
he  was  ushered  in. 

"Good-morning,  Stanley!"  she  said  quietly.  "Ed- 
gar is  still  in  Reserve ;  he  went  over  yesterday — about 
the  Haroun  Ali  case,  I  think.  Have  you  come  to 
luncheon?" 

"No,  thanks!  I  know  Edgar  is  in  Reserve — I  met 
Hassan."  He  spoke  jerkily,  with  more  than  his  usual 
awkwardness,  which  she  attributed  to  that  strange- 
ness of  a  few  days  since  and  his  betrayal  of  himself, 
or,  even  more  probable,  to  his  difference  with  Ever- 
ard on  her  account 

"Who  was  that  young  man  who.  was  leaving  the 
house  as  I  came?"  he  said  suddenly.  His  long  fin- 
gers had  seized  and  were  crumpling  the  pages  of  one 
of  her  text-books,  and  she  noticed  the  signs  of  agi- 
tation with  wonder. 

"A  young  man!"  she  repeated  slowly.  "I  don't 
know. — I  have  seen  no  one,  I  think,  except  yourself 
this  morning?" 

"Well — he  was  an  Arab;  but  he  was  coming  out 


EXILE  255 

of  your  front  door  for  all  the  world  like  a  whit* 
man!" 

"Oh!"  (She  almost  laughed  at  the  race  distinc- 
tion, though  it  was  common  in  Exile.)  "That  was 
Said,  my  Arabic  teacher.  He  is  in  the  Government 
schools,  and  I  cannot  treat  him  quite  like  the  serv- 
ants." 

"He  is  no  better!"  he  said  brutally.  She  glanced 
at  his  twitching  face,  and  thought  she  liked  him  least 
when  the  bullying  side  of  his  nature  was  uppermost. 
She  had  heard  his  views  on  the  natives  before,  and 
always  suspected  them  as  gathered  from  Everard. 
"Arabs  are  all  of  a  piece,"  he  said. 

"What,  Hassan?  Jacobs?"  she  asked  with  faint 
sarcasm,  naming  the  two  most  powerful  of  the  mer- 
chants in  whose  grip  this  man  as  well  as  her  husband 
might  be  supposed  to  be.  "I  could  hardly  ask  Has- 
san to  go  out  through  the  servants'  quarters,  if  he 
came  to  see  Edgar!" 

He  writhed  a  little,  visibly,  as  if  her  irony  were  a 
whipcord  she  hardly  knew  that  she  wielded,  but  he 
did  not  pursue  the  subject,  though  some  connection 
with  it  might  be  in  his  mind  unknown  to  her.  For 
what  he  said  was,  "I  could  not  sleep  last  night — this 
arguing  with  Edgar — I  am  useless  against  him!" 

"I  know,"  she  answered  with  her  old  gentleness. 
"I  am  so  sorry — I  am  afraid  I  was  the  cause."  Her 
wonderful  eyes  dwelt  on  him  pitifully,  unconscious 
of  their  own  tawny  velvet.  But  the  spell  of  them 
seemed  to  hypnotise  him  again,  for  he  stammered  as 
he  tried  to  speak. 

"Couldn't  sleep — up  all  night — went  for  a  walk — 
along  the  Reserve  road " 


256  EXILE 

Her  breath  seemed  suddenly  to  stop,  and  her  heart 
flashed  a  message  of  danger  to  her  brain.  "Up  all 
night"  and  "On  the  Reserve  road  I"  What  had  he 
seen?  What  had  he  thought?  Then  her  forces  mar- 
shalled themselves  to  defend  Hervey  whatever  hap- 
pened to  her,  and  her  calm  was  quite  unbroken  as 
she  spoke. 

"Poor  Stanley! — You  ought  to  see  a  doctor  if  it 
goes  on.  Insomnia  is  the  beginning  of  the  end  out 
here." 

"I  was  down  on  the  road — down  there,"  he  went 
on,  unheeding  her,  and  pointing  to  the  windows 
fronting  on  the  burning  world.  "And  I  saw  an 
Arab,  with  a  camel  carrying  a  woman — come  up 
here." 

"Up  here!"  said  Claudia  in  a  slow  puzzled  tone. 
"Are  you  sure?  What  time  was  it?" 

"Just  at  dawn.    They  passed  me  on  the  road." 

"And  did  you  see  them  come  back?  For  there  is 
no  outlet  this  way." 

"No,"  he  said,  and  his  eyes  fell.  "I  went  on  up 
to  the  Garrison — I  did  not  want  to  spy!" 

There  was  silence  for  a  moment,  while  she  drew 
her  breath.  If  what  he  said  were  true,  he  had  not 
seen  the  Arab  return  without  her.  But  the  suspicion, 
anyway,  must  be  dealt  with. 

"Well,  if  they  did  come  here,  I  can  only  suppose 
one  of  two  things — either  it  was  some  Arab  from 
the  desert  who  had  missed  his  road  and  discovered  his 
mistake,  or  else  he  came  to  see  someone  in  the  house- 
hold. One  never  knows  what  one's  servants  are 
doing,  of  course,  but  if  I  inquire  they  will  only  tell 
me  lies." 


EXILE  257 

Her  steady  eyes  were  looking  straight  at  him,  com- 
pelling his  stealthy  glances  that  could  not  meet  them 
fairly.  Poor  wretch!  he  had  never  been  much  more 
than  a  pale  reflection  of  her  husband,  and  now  that 
that  support  was  removed  he  seemed  all  abroad, 
floundering  helplessly  to  stand  on  his  own  feet  in  a 
new  position.  She  pitied  him  intensely  as  she  watched 
the  emaciated  hands  playing  with  her  lesson-books, 
for  in  the  warmth  of  her  happy  love  her  nature  was 
expanding  and  ripening.  She  found  herself  capable 
of  an  infinite  charity,  where  of  old  she  would  have 
been  cold  and  impatient. 

"What  did  you  think  the  Arab  was  coming  here 
for?"  she  said.  "What  did  you  think  yourself?" 

He  put  his  hand  to  his  head,  in  a  helpless,  bewil- 
dered fashion  like  a  child  might  do.  "I  don't  know 
— I  was  afraid" — he  began.  Then,  "Do  you  think 
it  could  have  been  the  same  man  ?" 

"The  same  man!"  she  echoed  blankly.  "What 
man?" 

"That  boy — that  teacher  who  has  just  gone,"  he 
said  hastily,  as  if  bitterly  ashamed  and  yet  obliged 
to  speak.  "It  occurred  to  me  as  I  came  in.  He  gives 
you  lessons — he  is  young,  and  handsome  in  the  Arab 
fashion.  He  might  have  known  that  Edgar  was 
away " 

"Said!"  she  exclaimed,  her  breath  almost  taken 
away  by  the  outrageous  suggestion.  "Said  seeking 
to  get  into  my  house  at  night — or  in  the  dawn!  Oh 
no — no !  He  is  a  strict  Mahomedan,  and  newly  mar- 
ried. You  do  not  know  the  better  type  of  Arab. 
Stanley,  I  think  Said  would  kill  you  if  he  could  ever 
dream  what  you  thought  of  him!" 


358  EXILE 

His  eyes  fell  again  from  their  wild  glance  at  her. 
"It  is  very  natural!"  he  said  in  a  low  voice.  "You 
never  see  yourself — you  do  not  seem  to  think  of  your 
own  power  as  other  women  do."  He  gave  a  long 
sigh,  and  an  uneasy  silence  fell  between  them.  Then 
he  turned  from  her  as  abruptly  as  he  had  begun  the 
interview.  "Well,  I  thought  it  right  to  tell  you,"  he 
said.  "I'll  go  now;  you  want  rest  after  your  les- 
son." 

"Wait  a  moment,  Stanley,"  she  roused  herself  to 
say.  "Even  if  you  won't  lunch  I  want  to  speak  to 
you.  I  have  something  to  ask  you." 

He  sat  down  heavily  in  the  chair  she  indicated  and 
leaned  his  elbow  on  the  table,  making  a  penthouse 
of  his  hands  over  his  miserable  eyes.  From  that 
screen  he  could  look  his  fill  at  her  without  appearing 
to  do  so. 

"Since  Edgar  first  spoke  to  me — about  his  plans, 
and — and  the  letter,"  she  said  thoughtfully,  "I  have 
had  time  to  think  a  little,  and  to  take  in  what  he 
said,  as  I  did  not  do  at  once.  This  Lestoc  case, 
Stanley — it  went  against  the  man,  of  course,  and 
ruined  him  financially?" 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders  doggedly.  "He  got  in 
Edgar's  way!"  he  reminded  her,  as  one  to  whom  he 
need  no  longer  wear  a  mask. 

She  did  not  flinch.  "Yes,"  she  said  patiently.  "But 
he  had  nothing  besides  his  business,  had  he?  No  pri- 
vate means  ?  I  think  I  heard  once  that  he  was  a  pros- 
perous man,  but  everything  depended  on  his  trade." 

"I  daresay." 

"Of  course,  no  one  could  discuss  it  with  me,  and 
so  I  never  heard.  But  his  wife  and  children — I  did 


EXILE  259 

not  know  Mrs.  Lestoc,  but  I  have  seen  her  in  Re- 
serve. I  am  sure  there  were  children." 

"I  daresay!" 

"And  what  became  of  them  all  those  months  he 
was  in  prison?  And  afterwards,  when  he  went  to 
the  hospital?  And — now,  that  he  is  dead!" 

"I  believe — there  was  some  money  at  first.  And 
lately — there  has  been  a  subscription." 

A  sudden  memory  flooded  Mrs.  Everard's  mind. 
"Mrs.  Vanburen  and  her  subscription  list!"  she  said 
below  her  breath.  "And  I  never  took  it  in!"  She 
remembered  the  date  of  that  call,  and  Mrs.  Vanburen 
asking  her  to  subscribe.  It  was  just  before  she  drove 
out  to  Hervey's  bungalow  for  the  fateful  interview. 
She  had  mentioned  it  to  him.  No  wonder  that  she 
had  not  grasped  the  object  of  the  charity. 

"It  seems  to  me  that  I  am  in  some  sort  respon- 
sible," she  said  quietly,  "as  Edgar  is  not.  At  least 
I  feel  it  so.  Will  you  find  out  for  me  exactly  how 
Mrs.  Lestoc  is  left,  Stanley?" 

He  glanced  at  her  with  those  craven  eyes,  attract- 
ed almost  to  awe.  "Edgar  will  not  approve,"  he  said 
quickly.  "He  will  be  angry.  Particularly  if  it  is 
known  that  you  are  doing  anything.  Have  you  taken 
that  into  calculation?" 

"I  am  not  taking  that  into  calculation!" 

The  light  caught  her  golden  hair  and  seemed  to 
make  radiant  its  dull  coils.  He  blinked  at  it  as  if 
dazzled.  "Very  well,"  he  said;  "I  will  find  out  for 
you." 

"And  this  case  of  Azeopardi,"  she  went  on  re- 
lentlessly. "I  understand  from  Edgar  that  these 
people  also — stand  in  his  way?" 


260  EXILE 

"Yes." 

"And  they  will  have  to  go?" 

"Yes." 

"Except  for  that  they  are  offenceless?  They  are 
honest  traders?" 

Again  he  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "As  traders  go! 
They  are  none  of  them  purists." 

She  seemed  to  meditate  for  a  minute;  for  her 
bowed  lips  closed  one  on  the  other,  the  irresistible 
curve  of  the  upper  intensified.  At  last:  "I  think  I 
will  speak  to  Edgar  about  this,"  she  said  simply. 

There  was  that  in  the  brief  sentence  that  left  him 
stunned.  His  own  daring  in  opposing  Edgar  had 
seemed  to  him  great;  but  he  had  been  driven  by  the 
all-sufficing  cause  of  this  woman  before  him.  In 
that  his  love  had  ennobled  him  to  battle,  above  fear, 
and  without  the  thought  of  failure.  Her  champion 
could  not  fail.  But  he  had  never  gone  so  far  as  to 
question  the  Chief  Justice  in  his  ruthless  march  upon 
other  men's  rights — never  questioned  his  use  of  the 
weapon  of  office  in  his  hands.  Now  he  felt  that 
Claudia  was  going  to  do  both,  and  the  very  idea  ap- 
palled him.  He  could  not  even  put  the  thought  into 
words,  and  rose  a  little  dizzily  to  take  this  new 
problem  into  the  outer  world. 

"Good-bye!"  he  said  baldly,  not  even  offering  her 
his  hand.  "If  I  can  serve  you — in  any  way — you 
know — — ."  He  faltered  and  stopped.  His  new 
feeling  was  too  strong  for  him ;  it  left  him  incoherent. 

"Yes,  I  know,"  she  said  gently.  "Good-bye,  Stan- 
ley!" 


CHAPTER  XV 

"Indeed  I  know  you  thought  you  loved  me,  sweet; 
You  pitied  me,  and  loved  my  love  of  you; 
In  all  I  said  you  heard  my  heart's  swift  beat. 
'This  heart  that  loves  me  so  is  warm  and  true, 
A  flower  to  wear,  not  trample  'neath  my 'feet.' 
Thus  to  yourself  you  thought  that  dear,  dead  day, 
We  sitting  in  the  twilight  still  and  grey, 
Your  hands  in  mine.    When  hands  of  lovers  meet, 
Not  long,  oh  Love,  before  the  lips  meet,  too." 

PHILLIP  BOURKE  MARSTON. 

r  I  AHE  early  morning  in  Exile  is  the  best  time  for 
photography,  unless  one  goes  out  an  hour  be- 
fore sunset.  At  midday  the  light  is  too  rapid,  and 
the  shadows  have  retreated,  so  that  even  the  Rocks 
look  flat  as  paper  and  their  tortured  sides  but  slightly 
grooved.  Miss  Playfair  used  to  carry  her  kodak 
regularly  in  her  early  walks  with  Mr.  Haines,  which 
were  now  orthodox  and  unquestioned.  Later  in  the 
morning,  when  the  Colonial  Secretary  was  absorbed 
in  his  duties,  she  would  sometimes  develop  them 
herself,  for  otherwise  they  must  wait  until  someone 
was  going  into  Reserve,  where  there  was  a  photog- 
rapher. He  was  a  Japanese,  and  did  a  thriving  trade 
between  the  idleness  of  the  garrison  and  the  vanity 
of  the  richer  Arabs;  but  Miss  Playfair  infinitely  pre- 
ferred to  risk  her  films  herself  to  waiting  till  it 
should  please  Shushi  to  develop  them  for  her,  and 

261 


262  EXILE 

she  had  the  argument  on  her  side  that  it  is  ill  to  keep 
films  on  the  spool  in  Exile.  The  Admiral  had  con- 
trived a  dark  room  for  her  at  Government  House — • 
a  mud-walled  erection  roofed  with  thatch  after  the 
fashion  of  Arab  villages,  which  filled  Lady  Stroud's 
soul  with  the  fear  of  fire.  She  had  a  secret  vision  of 
Barbara  absorbed  in  her  pyro  and  bromide  and  slow- 
ly cooked  to  death,  or  of  Mr.  Haines  rushing  in  to 
rescue  her  and  their  common  demesne  in  a  kind  of 
holocaust;  but  the  Admiral  was  far  more  concerned 
with  the  vivid  light  that  would  filter  in  through  every 
breathing  space  and  the  necessary  ventilation  and  red 
lights.  There  was  sufficiency  of  water,  though  it  was 
precious,  for  Hervey's  pipes  did  not  extend  to  the 
dark  room;  but  the  young  sitt  was  popular,  and  the 
Arabs  carried  many  pails  for  her  to  "wash  her  pic- 
tures." 

The  films  once  developed  they  dried  quickly,  and 
then  it  was  necessary  to  print  them  to  see  if  they  came 
out  creditably.  Again,  Shushi  took  too  long,  and 
Barbara  preferred  to  use  her  own  frames  even  if  she 
took  the  proofs  to  him  to  be  toned  and  fixed,  for  by 
that  time  she  had  generally  wearied  of  her  labour. 
There  was  only  one  place  where  the  films  would 
print  slowly  enough  to  avoid  a  sudden  rush  of  black- 
ness that  seemed  to  envelop  the  picture  even  while 
one  looked  at  it,  and  that  was  in  the  little  room  or  of- 
fice where  the  Flag-Lieutenant  and  Mr.  Smyth,  the 
secretary,  conducted  their  clerical  duties.  Mr.  Smyth, 
however,  was  frequently  a£  work  in  the  more  impor- 
tant office  at  the  dockyard,  and  Mr.  Merryn  had  sole 
possession  of  the  one  at  Government  House,  to  which 
he  had  a  bedroom  attached,  both  rooms  being  built 


EXILE  263 

on,  like  an  afterthought,  to  the  main  bungalow.  He 
had  also  a  flat  roof,  where  he  preferred  to  sleep  and 
was  most  enviably  fanned  by  the  cool  night  wind 
that  came  off  the  sea;  and  so  it  came  to  pass  that  he 
used  his  legitimate  bedroom  as  a  smoking-room,  and 
at  first  he  used  to  retire  there  precipitately  if  Miss 
Playfair  wanted  to  stand  her  frames  up  in  the  office 
window,  until  the  young  lady  showed  signs  of  vis- 
ible resentment  at  this  vanishment. 

"Of  course,  if  I  am  interrupting  your  work,  I  will 
wait  until  you  are  out!"  she  said  one  day,  standing 
in  the  open  doorway  of  the  office.  Behind  her  the 
shadeless  courtyard  made  an  aching  background  so 
that  her  white  figure  looked  black,  and  only  the  edges 
of  her  hair  were  burnt  in  gold.  "I  only  want  to  put 
the  frames  in  the  window;  it  won't  take  a  minute. 
And  Uncle  Jonathan  told  me  to  print  them  here! 
He  says  it's  the  only  place." 

The  Flag-Lieutenant  had  arisen  precipitately,  and 
advanced  to  meet  her  with  the  instinct  to  perform 
some  service  that  was  part  of  his  duties.  (Mrs. 
Bunney  always  called  it  "A.D.C.-ing.") 

"Oh,  of  course!"  he  said  hastily.  "Do  come  in, 
Miss  Playfair!  May  I  put  the  frames  up  for  you? 
Won't  you  sit  down  while  they  print?" 

"I  don't  want  to  interrupt  you!" 

"Please  don't  mind  me;  I  want  to  find  a  list  for 
the  dinner  party  next  week  that  Lady  Stroud  gave 
me.  It's  in  my  room." 

Barbara  looked  at  him  with  the  limpid  directness 
of  a  child.  "I  am  driving  you  away!  I  won't  print 
photographs  here  any  more!"  she  said  simply. 

He  flushed  up  to  the  short,  curling  hair,  for  all  his 


264  EXILE 

tan.  He  was  something  of  a  schoolboy,  this  big 
young  man  with  all  the  amazing  knowledge  of  the 
Navy  crammed  into  his  good-looking  head,  and  she 
embarrassed  him.  He  knew,  for  a  reason  that  she 
did  not,  that  he  ought  to  go  into  his  bedroom  and 
hunt  for  mythical  lists  of  dinner  guests,  but  before 
those  child's  eyes  he  was  helpless. 

"But  you  must  stay  to  see  that  the  films  do  not 
over-print!"  he  said  as  simply  as  she. 

"Very  well,  then;  don't  go  away!"  said  Barbara. 
"You  make  me  feel  a  perfect  nuisance  when  you  do." 

So  again  it  came  to  pass  that  he  stayed,  and 
reached  up  for  the  frames  for  her  to  open  them  and 
see  how  the  films  were  printing  and  then  put  them 
back  again.  Merryn  had  beautiful  hands  for  a  man, 
large  and  shapely,  and  he  did  not  freckle  as  so  many 
fair  men  did  in  Exile.  As  they  stood  side  by  side 
bending  over  the  frames  they  were  as  unsmiling  and 
matter-of-fact  as  two  children,  and  their  conversa- 
tion left  nothing  to  be  desired. 

"I'm  afraid  that  one's  over-exposed.  It's  too 
dense  to  print  properly." 

"It  was  the  light  over  the  sea.  I  never  can  man- 
age it  properly." 

"It  is  very  difficult  to  photograph  in  Exile  at  all." 

"And  yet  it  seems  as  if  it  ought  to  be  so  easy." 

A  pause,  while  another  film  was  inspected  and  pro- 
nounced "done,"  the  two  bright  young  heads  almost 
touching — the  two  pairs  of  hands  quite  touching 
over  their  task,  but  never  losing  their  steadiness. 

"Have  you  ever  tried  a  stand  camera?" 

"No;  it  is  so  cumbersome  to  carry." 

"It  is,  rather.     But  one  gets  some  good  results." 


EXILE  265 

"Plates  are  better  than  films,  too,  in  a  hot  climate." 

"Yes. — I  think  that's  the  last.  Can  I  do  anything 
more  for  you?" 

"No,  thanks." 

After  which  Miss  Playfair  would  carry  off  her 
films,  and  Mr.  Merryn  return  to  his  duties.  He  gen- 
erally spoilt  a  good  many  pens  between  her  departure 
and  the  luncheon  gong.  Perhaps  it  was  unfair  to 
interrupt  him,  after  all. 

On  the  day  that  she  called  on  Mrs.  Everard  in  the 
morning  she  did  not,  of  course,  come  to  print  pho- 
tographs. But  that  afternoon  she  was  at  polo  with 
Lady  Stroud,  and  the  following  day  she  had  some 
pictures  of  the  game  that  were  rather  successful. 

"Look!  that's  Mr.  Yarrow  scoring,"  she  said,  hold- 
ing the  films  up  to  the  light.  "Haven't  they  come 
out  well?  And  I  only  used  the  fiftieth  part  of  a  sec- 
ond." 

"It  must  be  a  slower  game  than  it  looks,"  said 
Merryn,  with  due  gravity  for  the  important  fact. 
"By  Jove!  Shushi  never  attempted  anything  like 
this.  He  said  it  was  impossible  to  photograph  polo." 
He  stood  a  trifle  behind  her  as  she  held  the  films  up 
to  the  light,  his  shoulder  brushing  hers.  And  now 
for  the  first  time  both  of  them  seemed  conscious  that 
there  was  something  wrong.  Merryn  moved  to  the 
window,  altering  the  opening  a  little.  The  office  was 
the  only  part  of  the  Government  bungalow  that  had 
real  windows  instead  of  jalousies  and  a  verandah  out- 
side which  mitigated  the  light  and  made  it  possible 
to  print.  Barbara  took  her  frames  to  the  darkest 
side  of  the  room,  and  with  her  back  to  the  light  be- 
gan to  put  in  the  films  and  printing  papers.  Then 


266  EXILE 

she  stood  them  up  in  the  window,  and  sat  down  for 
a  minute  while  they  printed.  Merryn  was  less  em- 
ployed and  more  at  a  disadvantage.  He  shuffled  the 
papers  on  his  writing-table,  and  wondered  where  the 
Colonial  Secretary  was,  and  what  he  was  doing,  at 
this  particular,  desperate  moment.  Also  it  occurred 
to  him  that  he  would  like  to  go  home,  or  to  be  ap- 
pointed to  another  ship.  He  did  not  think  the  posi- 
tion of  flag-lieutenant  was  good  enough. 

"I've  got  you  in  that  second  chukker,"  said  Bar- 
bara. "It's  very  good.  I'll  give  you  some  copies  if 
you  like." 

"Oh,  thanks!  I  will  send  one  to  my  sister,"  said 
Merryn.  It  is  possible  that  he  remembered  how  one 
usually  figures  in  amateur  photography,  and  selected 
his  sister  as  a  harmless  recipient;  but  the  suggestion 
met  with  Barbara's  entire  approval. 

"Yes,  do!"  she  said;  and  then  a  little  shyly,  "I 
didn't  know  you  had  a  sister!" 

"She  is  older  than  I  am." 

"Is  she  married?" 

"Yes — soldier-man.     She's  a  good  sport." 

"Oh,  she  would  be — your  sister,  I  mean."  That 
was  unconscious  flattery.  "I  can  shoot  a  little — with 
a  twenty-bore.  I'm  better  at  that  than — music!"  said 
Barbara  below  her  breath.  She  must  have  felt  her 
own  shortcomings  keenly,  for  she  was  rather  white. 

"I'll  see  if  your  pictures  are  done,"  said  Merryn, 
and  swung  round  to  the  window. 

He  gave  them  into  her  hands,  but  did  not  now  look 
over  her  shoulder.  She  handed  the  prints  to  him 
one  after  another,  and  he  expressed  approval,  even 
of  that  in  which  he  figured.  And  indeed,  though  only 


EXILE  267 

a  snapshot,  it  was  excellent — the  turn  of  the  young 
active  figure,  the  tiny  glimpse  of  a  face,  too  small  to 
be  grimaced  and  yet  suggestive  of  him. 

"I  suppose  I  ought  to  give  you  the  film— one  gen- 
erally does  if  one  takes  people  unawares,"  said  Bar- 
bara breathlessly.  "But  I  should  like  to  keep  it,  if 
I  may!" 

"Oh,  of  course;  it's  awfully  good — never  saw  a 
better  of  that  backhander  on  the  near  side,"  said 
Merryn  stoutly.  "It's  a  topping  game,  isn't  it!" 

"Topping.     I  wish  I  could  play." 

"You're  fond  of  games?" 

"I  think  they're  the  only  things  worth  doing  ex- 
cept sport,"  said  Barbara  candidly.  "I  daresay  I 
shall  like  muddling  round  drawing-rooms  later  on; 
but  at  present — well,  I'd  rather  look  on  at  a  game 
than  stay  indoors!" 

His  eyes  met  hers  by  mistake  and  kindled.  He 
really  had  not  meant  to  look  at  her,  or  to  sympathise, 
but  when  your  own  point  of  view  comes  out  of  the 
mouth  of  the  girl  you — a  girl  like  Barbara  Playfair, 
human  nature  is  sometimes  too  quick  for  training. 

"Yes,  I  know,"  he  said.  "And  then  one  learns  a 
lot  by  watching.  Haven't  you  noticed  that?" 

She  looked  at  him  again  with  her  empty  blue  eyes, 
and  her  lips  were  parted. 

"How  well  you  understand  me !"  she  said  suddenly. 
It  was  pathetic,  because  most  people  would  have  said 
that  there  was  little  to  understand.  But  even  her 
transparency  had  been  mistaken  for  depth,  and  she 
had  suffered  in  striving  to  be  what  she  was  not. 

Perhaps  he  realised  the  pathos  in  a  sort  of  mad  rage 
that  he  must  not  help  her.  Perhaps  at  the  moment 


268  EXILE 

the  discovery  of  their  mutual  attraction  was  the  only 
thing  that  existed  in  their  universe.  They  had  drawn 
closer  together  in  their  examination  of  the  photo- 
graphs, and  before  either  realised  it  the  two  smooth 
young  faces  had  met.  Then  Barbara  flung  herself 
down  at  the  table  again,  burying  her  head  in  her  out- 
stretched arms,  and  Merryn  had  drawn  back  almost 
as  if  stunned.  There  was  no  sound  in  the  little  office 
but  the  girl's  sobbing. 

"You  mustn't  do  that — please!"  he  said  at  last, 
almost  roughly,  laying  his  hand  on  her  shoulder. 
"My  fault  entirely — apologise — impulse " 

She  raised  her  head,  but  turned  away  her  tear- 
stained  face,  her  shoulders  still  heaving.  "We  both 
did  it!"  she  said  with  her  inartistic  honesty.  "It 
wasn't  you  more  than  me.  But — what  I  feel  is — 
it's  not  playing  the  game!" 

Dreadful  thought!  A  spoilt  future  or  the  muddle 
of  three  lives  would  be  better  than  this  lost  ideal. 
His  face  expressed  the  concern  he  felt. 

"I  know,"  he  said.  "I  won't  offend  again — on  my 
honour !" 

"I  know  you  won't,"  said  Barbara  simply.  "We're 
on  our  guard  now.  But  please  don't— don't  avoid 
me.  I  should  feel  so  bad!" 

She  did  not  stretch  a  hand  to  him,  but  he  came  and 
stood  by  her  side,  very  manly  and  very  British  and 
very  unromantic  in  his  concern.  "I  meant  to  go  home 
— to  get  out  of  it  somehow,"  he  said.  "But  I'll  do 
anything  you  like — dear!" 

"I'm  going  in  a  few  weeks,"  she  said  in  a  small 
and  woe-begone  voice.  "My — engagement  has 


EXILE  269 

changed  our  plans."  She  gulped  over  the  word,  but 
swallowed  it  bravely. 

"All  right;  I'll  see  it  out.  Don't  bother,"  he  said. 
He  looked  down  on  the  bright,  smooth  head  for  a 
minute  as  a  man  might  look  his  last,  and  he  would 
have  been  less  than  a  man  if  his  arms  had  not  felt 
very  empty.  But  it  never  occurred  to  either  of  them 
that  they  were  unreasonable  martyrs  in  their  moral 
attitude.  It  was  their  creed  to  play  the  game,  and 
this  was  their  idea  of  playing  it. 

Merryn  turned  away,  and  collecting  the  photos  put 
them  carefully  into  the  black  envelopes  and  laid 
them  on  the  table  beside  her.  Barbara  gathered  them 
up,  and  without  any  further  farewell  walked  blindly 
into  the  glare  of  the  courtyard  and  back  to  the  main 
portion  of  the  bungalow. 

She  was  not  present  at  luncheon,  pleading  a  head- 
ache, and  as  Mr.  Haines  was  not  present  either  she 
was  advised  to  lie  down.  People  very  frequently  get 
headache  in  Exile  from  the  glare,  and  it  is  a  real  ail- 
ment and  not  the  convenience  of  excuse.  Merryn 
was  not  more  silent  than  usual,  and  the  Admiral  had 
Major  Dalkeith  to  talk  to,  as  he  had  fortunately  been 
invited.  At  tea  Miss  Play  fair  appeared  much  as 
usual,  her  eyes  a  little  heavy  perhaps,  but  as  frankly 
indifferent  to  criticism. 

"Yes,  I  know  I  look  as  if  I  had  been  crying,"  she 
said  composedly.  "I  thought  myself  how  unbecom- 
ing it  was!" 

Rodney  Haines  had  come  up  to  Government  House 
in  time  for  tea  and  to  take  the  ladies  down  to  the 
Club  afterwards.  He  looked  at  his  fiancee  with  his 
strained  gaze  a  little  comprehensively;  but  he  was 


270  EXILE 

the  first  to  laugh — that  spontaneous,  rare  laugh  that 
made  him  younger  than  Barbara  herself,  or  than  Mer- 
ryn,  standing  in  attendance  by  the  tea  table  as  usual. 

"Isn't  that  like  a  girl!"  said  Haines  delightedly. 
"She  has  probably  had  a  shave  of  sunstroke,  and  she 
is  very  annoyed  because  it  is  unbecoming!  Babs, 
I  shall  forbid  your  venturing  out  of  the  house  between 
breakfast  and  tea-time."  He  went  closer  to  her  and 
dropped  his  jesting  tone,  the  pupils  of  his  eyes  a  little 
distended  as  if  with  unacknowledged  fear.  "You 
are  not  really  ill,  my  darling?  Is  your  head  still 
aching?" 

"No,  not  now."  The  girl  moved  restlessly  under 
his  gaze,  but  did  not  blush.  "I  felt  very  seedy  about 
midday." 

"What  had  you  been  doing?" 

"Nothing  particular.  Oh,  I  did  go  across  to  the 
office  to  print  some  photos  about  twelve  o'clock,"  she 
said  bravely. 

"Too  late  for  you  to  be  out  in  the  sun ;  but  it's  only 
a  step  across  the  courtyard  1"  His  common-sense 
followed  his  anxiety,  and  seemed  to  puzzle  him.  Bar- 
bara felt  the  double  strain  of  her  own  misery  and  his 
fatal  intuition,  and  grew  impatient  in  her  youth. 

"Never  mind — please  don't  fuss  over  me,  now  or 
ever!"  she  said  irritably.  "I  should  simply  hate  it. 
I'm  all  right.  Get  me  some  tea." 

She  flung  herself  down  in  a  corner  of  the  sofa  from 
which  Lady  Stroud  was  dispensing  tea,  and  tried  to 
keep  her  eyes  from  straying  to  the  tall  white  figure 
beside  her  aunt.  Merryn  was  leaning  his  hand  against 
one  of  the  pillars  that  supported  the  bungalow,  and 
the  whole  weight  of  his  body  appeared  to  be  thrown 


EXILE  271 

on  to  it,  to  judge  from  the  position  of  his  fingers.  It 
had  made  the  finger-nails  quite  white,  and  Barbara's 
keen  eyes  had  caught  the  inner  meaning  of  that  fierce 
pressure,  and  understood  it  and  sickened  to  under- 
stand. If  it  were  to  be  always  like  this  either  he  or 
she  must  go  home  after  all — at  once.  They  were 
both  brave  enough  to  play  the  game,  but  she  could 
not  bear  it  dragged  out  day  by  day.  She  had  not 
known  what  it  was  like  to  care  like  this — she  had 
endured  Haines'  love-making  with  a  certain  shy 
pride,  half-ignorance  and  half -reluctance.  But  since 
her  lips  had  met  those  of  the  man  she  could  love,  such 
license  allowed  to  any  other  was  a  physical  nausea. 
A  kiss  may  be  an  education  in  the  emotions,  or  it  may 
be  a  passive  thing,  colourless  and  unimportant.  But 
it  is,  after  all,  a  sense  of  touch,  and  a  symbol 
of  a  much  greater  intimacy.  .  .  .  Suddenly  Barbara 
blenched  and  saw  her  doom  before  her. 

"I'm  afraid  we  ought  to  ask  the  Everards  to  din- 
ner," Lady  Stroud  was  saying  thoughtfully.  "Of 
course,  I  don't  mean  that  exactly,  because  I  am  always 
glad  to  see  her;  but  we  haven't  had  them  since  he  was 
back,  and  he  is  such  a  difficult  man  to  entertain — peo- 
ple dislike  him  so!" 

"H'm,  yes!"  said  the  Admiral.  "They'll  dislike 
him  more  too,  after  the  court  begins  to  sit!  I  hear 
the  case  is  sure  to  go  against  Azeopardi." 

"And  that  dreadful  murder  trial!"  said  Lady 
Stroud.  "If  he  lets  the  man  off  I  am  sure  there  will 
be  a  rising." 

"Tut,  tut!  Fanny — you  are  not  even  to  think  of 
such  things  under  my  administration,  far  less  say 
them!" 


272  EXILE 

"Oh,  wefi,  this  is  only  a  family  party!  But  who 
can  I  ask  to  meet  the  Chief  Justice?  There  is  no  one 
who  likes  him,  except  Mr.  Murgatroyd." 

"Well,  that  would  make  eight  with  ourselves,  even 
if  we  leave  Haines  out." 

"Two  ladies  short!"  sighed  Lady  Stroud.  "Mr. 
Merryn,  do  think  of  two  kind,  charitable  ladies!" 

Merryn  started  slightly,  and  put  his  cup  down  on 
the  little  table;  but  he  went  back  to  his  former  atti- 
tude the  next  moment,  his  hand  on  the  pillar  as  if  he 
liked  its  support. 

"We  could  ask  Mrs.  Cateret  and  Mrs.  Smart,  as 
their  husbands  are  shooting  in  Somaliland,"  he  sug- 
gested with  an  effort. 

"But  they  are  not  kind  or  charitable  at  all.  Mrs. 
Cateret  makes  the  most  horrible  faces  when  she  tries 
to  be  amusing,  and  Mrs.  Smart  turned  her  back  on 
the  American  consul  the  last  time  she  was  here.  She 
was  really  quite  rude.  They  are  both  such  disagree- 
able women !" 

"Perhaps  that  is  why  their  husbands  are  in  Somali- 
land!"  said  the  Admiral  amicably.  "For  goodness' 
sake  let  us  work  off  all  the  unpleasant  people  together, 
Fanny,  and  give  up  our  minds  to  it  for  one  evening !" 

"That's  all  very  well  for  you,  because  the  one  nice 
woman  falls  to  your  share — Mrs.  Everard !"  said  Lady 
Stroud,  laughing.  "How  wonderfully  well  she  is  look- 
ing! I  passed  her  on  the  road  to  the  Club  yesterday 
and  she  struck  me  afresh.  I  had  to  point  her  out  to 
Mr.  Merryn  as  if  he  had  never  seen  her  before!" 

"She  is  looking  wonderfully  well,"  Merryn  agreed. 

Mr.  Haines  had  brought  Barbara  her  tea,  and  sat 
down  quietly  near  her  while  she  drank  it.  He  was 


EXILE  273 

not  watching  her,  and  yet  she  was  painfully  conscious 
of  a  new  line  between  his  brows  and  some  shadow 
on  him  as  if  reflected  from  her  own  pain.  She  strug- 
gled against  the  feeling,  but  it  was  a  relief  when  tea 
was  over,  and  a  move  was  made  for  the  Club.  Bar- 
bara said  the  air  would  do  her  good — she  did  not  want 
to  be  left  behind;  and  then  in  a  panic  fear  wondered 
if  it  sounded  as  though  she  did  not  want  to  be  left 
with  her  fiance.  Mr.  Merryn  made  his  excuses,  as 
Lady  Stroud  had  a  sufficient  escort  in  the  Admiral 
and  Mr.  Haines.  He  wanted  to  have  a  swim,  and 
would  go  out  to  Fort  Bay,  leaving  the  bungalow  be- 
fore the  rest  of  the  party.  Lady  Stroud  and  Bar- 
bara went  to  dress,  and  the  Admiral  and  the  Colonial 
Secretary  stood  in  the  compound,  smoking,  until  the 
ladies  were  ready.  From  his  position  near  the  open 
door  in  the  lattice  Rodney  Haines  could  see  the  empty 
drawing-room,  and  his  eyes  mechanically  waited,  as 
they  always  did,  for  Barbara's  coming.  The  com- 
pound was  a  place  of  memories  to  him,  and  a  little 
thrill  like  electricity  always  went  through  him  at  the 
memory  of  that  night  when  he  asked  her  to  be  his 
wife  and  first  held  her  in  his  arms. 

Suddenly  he  saw  her,  coming  quietly  across  the 
drawing-room.  Lady  Stroud  was  not  with  her,  and 
for  the  moment  he  did  not  realise  that  she  had  not 
seen  them  in  the  compound.  The  Admiral,  indeed, 
had  his  broad  back  to  her,  but  Haines  was  facing  the 
room.  He  saw  her  come  back  to  the  deserted  tea- 
table,  hesitate,  and  then  move  to  the  pillar  against 
which  Merry  had  been  leaning.  The  girl  turned  her 
head  quickly,  and  pressed  her  lips  to  the  spot  where 
his  hand  had  rested  so  long. 


274  EXILE 

It  was  at  foolish  action,  and  an  impulse  that  Bar- 
bara's own  conscience  did  not  approve,  for  the  next 
instant  she  had  turned  away.  But  being  only  a  girl, 
and  not  a  Stoic,  the  unconscious  yearning  of  the  senti- 
ment was  instinctive.  It  flashed  across  Haines'  eye- 
balls like  a  flame  of  fire — the  movement  and  the  sig- 
nificance of  it.  He  had  felt  the  presage  of  despair 
with  all  the  finest  chords  of  his  soul,  though  he  had 
not  guessed — he  had  not  guessed !  Now  the  meaning 
of  the  past  weeks  came  back  to  him — the  days  during 
which  he  had  waited  with  such  perfect  hope  for  the 
dawn  of  comprehension  in  her,  the  clinging  of  his 
own  heart  to  the  possibility  of  her  loving  him  as  he  so 
passionately  desired.  And  all  the  while  she  had  been 
learning  to  love  Merryn !  He  did  not  hesitate  or  deny 
his  own  disaster ;  he  was  too  quick-witted  and  intuitive 
to  make  another  mistake.  The  facts  were  all  there, 
clear  and  hard  before  his  immediate  consciousness  as 
if  a  god  had  dealt  them  to  him,  like  blows. 

He  went  on  talking  to  the  Admiral — he  never  knew 
how — and  presently  Barbara  joined  them  with  Lady 
Stroud,  and  they  all  went  down  to  the  Club.  Haines 
was  very  gay.  He  talked  nonsense  and  made  Lady 
Stroud  laugh,  so  that  even  her  maternal  instinct  did 
not  warn  her  for  him.  But  when  they  reached  their 
destination  he  excused  himself  from  bridge,  and  asked 
Barbara  to  come  and  sit  near  the  low  wall,  by  the 
water.  He  had  a  feeling  that  what  was  to  be  done 
must  be  done  quickly.  It  was  too  dreadful  a  thing 
to  hesitate  over — like  some  ghastly  operation  that 
must  be  done  now  if  at  all.  He  leaned  forward  in 
the  dusk  and  touched  her  left  hand  lying  listlessly  on 
her  knee.  Behind  her  the  sunset  was  working  the 


EXILE  275 

old  miracle  over  Banishment,  the  bronze  icebergs 
piercing  the  bleeding  wounds  of  the  western  sky.  The 
reflected  light  lay  far  across  the  water,  and  touched 
Haines'  face  to  a  strange  glow,  as  of  some  poor  mar- 
tyr waiting  for  the  growing  fire.  He  was  rather  seri- 
ous, she  thought,  and  there  was  a  curious  transparency 
under  his  eyes. 

"Barbara,"  he  said,  "I  have  made  a  mistake!" 

His  hand  touching  hers  drew  the  little  loose  Arabic 
ring  off  her  third  finger  before  she  could  move.  Other 
people  in  the  Club  saw  only  that  Mr.  Haines  and  his 
fiancee  were  sitting  side  by  side  and  that  the  man  had 
touched  the  girl's  hands.  It  was  hardly  good  taste 
to  be  demonstrative  in  public — well,  they  might  have 
waited  till  after  dark!  But  what  would  you?  This 
was  Exile  and  people  were  unconventional. 

Haines  straightened  himself  a  little,  and  dropped 
the  ring  into  his  pocket. 

"There!  is  not  that  better?  Don't  you  feel  freer?" 
he  said,  with  a  little  cracked  sound  in  his  voice  that 
made  her  jump.  "I  think  the  headache  will  go  now." 

"I  don't  understand,  Rodney!" 

"Don't  you?    Does  Mr.  Merryn  understand?" 

"Oh,  Rodney — but  we  never  said  anything — in- 
deed !  And  we  never  meant  to.  How  did  you  know  ?" 

"Never  mind,  so  long  as  I  do  know.  You  needn't 
say  anything  to-night.  I'll  tell  Lady  Stroud  later  on 
— that  we  have  changed  our  minds."  His  voice  had 
lost  its  melody,  and  he  still  spoke  on  that  odd  cracked 
note  that  made  her  feel  him  a  stranger.  She  was  so 
unhappy  as  yet  that  she  could  not  even  feel  relieved. 

"I  am  so  ashamed  of  myself!"  she  said,  with  her 
facility  for  speaking  the  exact  truth. 


276  EXILE 

He  turned  upon  her  rather  suddenly,  almost  as  if 
he  could  have  been  savage  to  her  had  he  lost  his  self- 
control.  "Why  are  you  sorry?"  he  said.  "For  fall- 
ing in  love — at  last?  Don't  be  sorry;  it  is  the  one 
real  thing  you  have  probably  ever  done,  the  only 
awakening  you  can  have.  It  is  not  a  thing  to  be 
sorry  for — no!  no!  It  is  the  most  refined  way  of 
torturing  a  soul  that  even  God  could  conceive.  That 

is  why "  he  stopped  abruptly  and  passed  his  hand 

across  his  eyes  a  little  wearily.  "I'm  talking  non- 
sense," he  said.  "And  you  can't  understand,  you  poor 
child!  Good-bye,  Babs.  I  am  going  to  send  Bride 
to  talk  to  you.  Ask  him  to  prescribe  for  your  head- 
ache!" He  laughed  again,  softly,  but  the  jarred  note 
was  still  there.  Then  he  rose  without  any  haste  and, 
crossing  to  the  club-house,  caught  Dr.  Bride  and  sent 
him  over  to  Barbara,  jovial  and  evidently  with  no 
suspicion  that  anything  was  wrong.  The  girl  sat  still 
helplessly,  with  a  feeling  that  something  almost  inde- 
cent had  happened.  It  should  not  have  all  taken.place 
here,  out  of  doors,  with  half-a-dozen  people  almost 
within  earshot!  Then  she  missed  the  ring  on  her 
finger  that  had  made  her  so  uneasy  while  she  wore  it 
and  slipped  her  right  hand  over  her  left.  The  dia- 
monds would  arrive  too  late  from  England  now! 
She  drew  her  breath  with  a  sound  between  a  sob  and 
a  sigh. 

"Haines  says  he  is  bound  to  play  one  rubber,  and 
then  he'll  try  to  get  away,"  said  Dr.  Bride  with  a 
chuckle.  "Awful  thing  bridge,  Miss  Play  fair!  It's 
as  solemn  an  engagement  as  a  moonlight  tryst!  You 
don't  play?" 


EXILE  277 

"Yes,  a  good  deal.  But  I  have  had  a  headache 
all  day." 

Her  eyes,  wandering  to  the  tables,  really  saw  Haines 
sitting  down  to  the  game  with  three  other  men.  Per- 
haps after  all  it  was  not  so  horribly  serious  as  it  had 
seemed  to  break  an  engagement !  Perhaps  that  cracked 
note  in  his  voice  was  her  fancy. 

A  little  later  she  glanced  across  at  the  table  again, 
but  Haines  had  gone  and  another  man  had  taken  his 
place. 


CHAPTER   XVI 

"By  that  faith  I  cannot  share, 

Fare  thee  well ! 
By  this  hopeless  heart's  despair, 

Fare  thee  well ! 

By  the  days  I  have  been  glad  for  thee, 
The  years  I  shall  be  sad  for  thee, 
The  hours  I  shall  be  mad  for  thee, 
Farewell !" 

SYDNEY  DOBELU 

RODNEY  HAINES  made  his  excuses  to  Lady 
Stroud  on  the  plea  of  work.  He  had  been  extra 
busy  of  late,  and  had  thrown  himself  into  his  duties 
with  a  fiery  enthusiasm  whose  reason  was  obvious. 
He  wanted  to  leave  an  excellent  record  behind  him, 
and  it  was  probable  that  his  service  in  Exile  would 
end  next  year  and  that  he  might  be  promoted.  He 
was  a  valuable  man  over  the  finances  of  a  colony, 
and  he  was  moderately  sure  of  being  made  Adminis- 
trator if  not  at  once  a  Governor — at  any  rate,  he  would 
be  backed  by  very  high  praise  from  Sir  Jonathan. 
He  had  always  worked  with  the  nervous  force  of  his 
temperament,  but  of  late  he  had  had  the  incentive 
of  a  definite  object  in  his  future  to  spur  him  on,  and 
had  spared  neither  brain  nor  body.  Something  of 
the  transparency  which  Barbara  had  noticed  in  his 
face  was  due  to  this,  for  he  had  given  her  not  only 
the  immediate  worship,  but  the  advantage  of  his  train- 

278 


EXILE  279 

ing  in  a  service  which  asks  more  and  more  of  the  man 
who  means  to  keep  in  the  front.  Everything  was  to 
be  turned  to  account  for  Barbara — past  record,  and 
present  experience,  and  future  chances.  Rodney 
Haines  did  not  only  give  love — he  gave  service. 

When  he  left  the  Club  the  sunset  had  faded  away 
behind  Banishment,  and  the  sudden  night  had  de- 
scended on  the  Rocks,  darkening  their  outlines.  There 
was  sufficient  light  in  the  entrance  to  show  him  the 
roadway,  but  he  walked  like  a  man  who  is  not  quite 
sober,  stumbled,  and  swore  out  loud,  to  the  surprise 
of  the  Club  porter.  Haines  was  a  man  who  never 
used  foul  language,  and  the  oath  had  not  been  of  the 
mildest.  His  own  car — he  had  a  two-seater — was 
standing  in  the  road,  and  he  took  it  home  by  himself, 
his  servant  not  being  on  the  spot.  He  drove  quite 
steadily,  though  the  Club  porter  had  come  out  into 
the  road  to  see  him  start,  thinking  that  there  was 
something  wrong.  He  had  not  only  heard  Mr.  Haines 
swear,  but  had  seen  his  face. 

The  bungalow  belonging  to  the  Colonial  Secretary 
was  beyond  the  garrison  lines  a  little  further  up  the 
mountain  side.  It  was  perched  in  a  niche  of  the 
Rocks  by  itself,  and  had  hardly  any  compound  owing 
to  the  nature  of  the  ground.  Haines  was  wont  to 
drive  his  car  neatly  through  the  gateway  and  back 
her  into  the  shed.  To-night  for  the  first  time  he 
hesitated,  and  a  panic  fear  dawned  in  his  mind  that 
he  could  not  make  the  turn — he  should  lose  control 
of  the  brakes  and  slip  backwards  down  the  hill. 
His  face  was  very  tense  as  he  engaged  the  clutch, 
and  jerking1  round  the  wheel  scraped  through  the  gate- 


280  EXILE 

way,  and  when  he  entered  the  bungalow  he  found  the 
sweat  running  down  his  face. 

He  got  to  his  work  at  once,  taking  it  up  where  he 
had  put  it  down  that  very  afternoon  to  go  up  to 
Government  House  for  tea.  His  dread  had  been  that 
he  would  not  be  able  to  concentrate  his  forces,  but 
to  his  relief  his  brain  was  piercingly  clear — almost 
unusually  so.  It  seemed  strung  up  to  grasp  certain 
financial  problems  that  had  eluded  him  earlier  in  the 
day,  and  he  felt  no  tire,  only  an  increased  craving  to 
go  on  and  on  and  not  to  give  himself  time  to  think. 
He  worked  straight  on  from  seven  o'clock  to  ten  with- 
out pause  for  food,  and  then  suddenly  the  impulse 
stopped.  He  was  conscious  that  he  could  do  no  more, 
though  he  was  not  tired;  he  knew  that  if  he  went  to 
bed  he  should  not  sleep,  but  he  had  no  intention  of 
going  to  bed.  He  put  the  papers  in  order  for  his  next 
day's  work,  locked  his  desk,  and  turned  thirstily  to 
the  draught  of  open  air  that  came  in  through  the 
jalousies.  His  servants  had  been  dismissed  and  had 
gone  to  bed.  Haines  walked  out  through  the  window 
on  to  the  verandah  and  through  the  damaged  gateway 
into  the  road. 

People  were  not  yet  returning  from  dinner  parties 
or  card  parties.  There  were  lights  in  the  Marines' 
mess,  but  no  motor  passed  him  on  the  road.  He 
walked  down  into  Fort  and  through  the  silent  streets 
of  the  Arab  quarters  out  on  to  the  road  to  Reserve 
again.  Overhead  the  sky  was  clear  and  rich  with 
stars,  and  the  desert  wind  met  him  as  he  left  the  last 
bungalows  behind.  He  passed  the  mouth  of  the  Cut- 
ting leading  to  Reserve,  and  held  on  towards  the 
desert,  skirting  the  foot  of  the  Rocks.  It  seemed  to 


EXILE  281 

him  that  his  toiling  feet  would  never  get  beyond  their 
boundaries  and  out  into  the  dead  sand,  and  he  began 
to  have  a  sickening  horror  and  fear  of  the  Rocks  as 
of  some  animate  thing  that  hated  him  and  would  rend 
and  tear.  They  made  a  background  to  the  quickness 
of  his  tragedy — the  undeserved  pain  that  had  passed 
within  their  relentless  walls. 

It  had  all  been  so  rapid,  the  coming  of  his  love  and 
the  passing  of  it,  that  it  had  not  given  him  pause  for 
defence.  He  was  conscious,  too,  that  for  him  there 
was  only  one  way  of  doing  the  decent  thing — to  do  it 
quickly.  Had  he  allowed  himself  time  to  argue  or  to 
reason  it  would  have  been  in  his  own  favour,  and  he 
would  have  clung  fiercely  to  his  hold  on  Barbara,  bat- 
tling to  make  her  care  for  him,  clinging  to  every  shred 
of  expediency  and  advantage  that  could  give  him  a 
shadow  of  right.  And  all  the  time  he  would  have 
known  that  without  the  essential  thing  his  plea  of  po- 
sition, or  means,  or  devotion  to  the  girl  was  as  noth- 
ing. If  she  did  not  love  him  he  was  digging  his  own 
grave  in  binding  her,  for  he  would  never  have  been 
satisfied  with  less.  The  fine,  quick  nature  that  made 
him  an  artist  could  not  have  solaced  itself  as  a  coarser 
one  might  with  the  humdrum  of  failure.  The  discord 
of  their  everyday  life  would  have  been  always  present 
with  him,  despite  any  sophistry  of  "settling  down" 
and  "getting  on  as  well  as  most  married  people."  For 
after  all  it  amounted  to  this,  that  she  had  not  learned 
to  love  him,  and  she  had  learned  to  love  Merryn.  It 
was  not  a  question  of  one  man's  superiority  over  the 
other, — it  never  is  with  a  woman — it  was  the  one  un- 
controvertible  necessity  of  her  nature.  Merryn  was 
her  natural  mate  and  Haines  only  a  mistake  of  her 


282  EXILE 

inexperience.  His  nervous  force  had  swept  her  off 
her  feet  and  taken  her  captive  before  she  could  get 
her  breath;  but  the  captivity  could  not  last  before  the 
judgment  of  Nature. 

Haines  walked  on  and  on  into  the  desert,  as  he 
supposed,  but  with  the  instinct  of  men  lost  in  the  bush 
he  began  to  turn  in  his  own  tracks  and  make  a  circle. 
He  first  began  to  be  aware  of  it  in  the  horrid  recur- 
rency  of  the  Rocks,  whose  nearing  outline  through 
the  night  drove  him  out  again  into  the  sand  to  flee 
from  them.  He  struck  miles  into  the  desert  as  it 
seemed,  only  to  find  them  overshadowing  him  again, 
until  with  a  suppressed  shriek  he  almost  ran  from 
them.  The  first  numbness  of  the  shock  of  breaking 
his  engagement  was  passing  from  him,  and  he  was 
beginning  to  feel  the  live  pain  of  it.  The  sickening 
sense  of  loss  was  followed  by  a  jealousy  that  seared 
him  to  think  of  her  in  the  arms  of  another  man,  until 
the  very  dregs  of  his  nature  seemed  uppermost,  and 
he  set  his  teeth  against  the  wish  that  he  had  held  her 
to  her  bargain,  and  gained  the  joys  of  the  flesh  at 
least.  He  could  have  punished  her  there — taken  his 
revenge  and  enjoyment  at  the  same  time;  and  a  wave 
of  heat  went  over  him  at  the  thought,  passed,  and  left 
him  shivering  with  cold.  Passion  was  not  less  to  Rod- 
ney Haines  than  to  more  animal  natures — it  was  only 
a  refinement  of  the  same  sense.  The  fineness  of  the 
man  lay  in  the  struggle  that  he  made  against  a  self- 
indulgence  that  others  would  have  excused  as  "nat- 
ural" or  "necessary." 

It  seemed  to  him  that  he  had  been  walking  for  days 
and  days  instead  of  a  matter  of  a  few  hours  when  the 
first  light  in  the  eastern  sky  began  to  show  him  his 


EXILE  283 

way.  The  desert  lay  out  in  ridges  before  him,  speckled 
with  the  dark  bushes  of  the  camel-thorn  and  dying 
into  dusk  on  the  horizon.  He  had  thrust  the  Rocks 
behind  him  once  more,  and  struck  out  for  the  long 
road,  now  that  he  could  see  it  like  a  brown  ribbon  in 
the  dawn,  the  unnatural  music  of  the  telephone  wires 
accompanying  him  on  his  way.  The  chorded  notes 
fretted  his  ear,  and  reminded  him  of  the  monotony 
of  one  of  Wagner's  operas  where  the  prolongation  of 
a  single  note  is  supposed  to  represent  the  flowing  of 
the  Rhine.  Mental  and  physical  are  so  closely  inter- 
woven that  the  immediate  effect  of  his  trouble  was  an 
absolute  sickness  and  sudden  trembling  of  the  limbs. 
The  cold  of  the  desert  was  intensified  in  the  dawn, 
and  he  drew  his  linen  coat  closer  and  shivered  vio- 
lently, but  at  the  same  time  lifted  his  stricken  face  to 
the  lightening  sky  and  pressed  his  damp  hair  away 
from  his  forehead  with  both  hands,  discovering  for 
the  first  time  that  he  was  wearing  no  hat.  The  fact 
suddenly  awoke  him  to  dim  consciousness  of  ordinary 
things  and  the  decency  of  keeping  a  veil  between  his 
soul  and  the  world  of  men.  He  remembered  that  he 
must  go  back,  and  hoped  it  would  be  early  enough  to 
avoid  recognition.  They  must  not  see  him  in  that  dis- 
ordered state  and  with  the  face  that  he  dimly  sur- 
mised he  wore. 

Without  knowing  that  he  had  turned,  he  found  him- 
self hurrying  along  the  road  again,  the  implacable 
outline  of  the  Rocks  still  before  him.  But  their  sig- 
nificance began  to  awe  him  as  the  sun  came  up  and 
struck  their  furrowed  sides  with  greyish  lights.  He 
tried  to  keep  his  eyes  upon  the  road  before  him,  but 
they  strayed  stealthily  to  the  Rocks,  and  an  odd  sense 


284  EXILE 

began  to  possess  him  that  they  were  drawing  him  to 
them.  He  faltered  and  stood  still  in  the  roadway, 
looking  back  and  forth  like  some  hunted  animal,  while 
the  sun  beat  down  on  his  uncovered  head,  and  showed 
in  his  face  the  ravages  of  the  night.  He  was  talking 
to  himself,  and  was  aware  that  he  must  have  been 
doing  so  for  some  time.  He  heard  his  own  voice 
clearly. 

"Hervey's  somewhere  near,"  it  said.  "Hervey's  got 
a  house  somewhere  in  those  damned  sands — if  I  could 
only  find  it.  Hervey,  old  fellow,  can't  you  take  in  a 
poor  devil  who's  being  killed  by  those  accursed 
Rocks?"  .  .  .  Then  it  struck  him  how  funny  it  was 
to  talk  like  that,  and  he  burst  out  laughing,  and  the 
sound  frightened  him  more  than  the  words.  He 
shaded  his  bloodshot  eyes  from  the  glare  and  looked 
across  the  desert,  and  there  to  his  right  were  the  crests 
of  palms  that  proclaimed  the  wells  of  Golgotha  and 
Hervey's  bungalow.  Something  seemed  to  break  in 
his  heart,  and  he  set  off  running  to  reach  it,  sobbing 
dreadfully  beneath  his  breath  because  of  the  fear  that 
the  Rocks  would  drag  him  back  and  hold  him  ere  he 
got  there.  He  babbled  as  he  ran,  stumbling  among 
the  camel-thorns,  and  when  still  half  a  mile  from  his 
goal  he  fell  and  lay  face  downwards  in  the  broad  day, 
a  limp  heap  of  something  white  in  the  desert.  He 
looked  so  dead  that  two  great  vultures  hung  hovering 
above  him  in  blue  air,  undecided  as  to  whether  this 
were  carrion  or  no ;  but  fortunately  his  eyes  were  out 

of  their  reach,  hidden  in  the  sand. 

***** 

Richmond  Hervey  was  rung  up  early  from  the 
waterworks,  for  there  was  some  fear  of  a  fall  in  the 


EXILE  285 

Cutting.  The  men  engaged  on  the  pipes  that  carried 
the  water  to  Fort  had  reported  earth  tremors  in  the 
great  tunnel  and  the  appearance  of  small  fissures  in 
the  rocks.  Hervey  had  already  taken  all  precautions 
by  timbering  to  prevent  larger  falls,  but  the  staff  were 
taken  with  panic,  and  unconsciously  to  themselves 
had  become  dependent  on  his  strength  and  judgment. 
Hervey  pealed  his  instructions  through  the  telephone, 
with  footnotes  to  the  effect  that  they  were  a  nursery 
of  fools,  and  ordered  early  breakfasts  in  Reserve  and 
the  car  to  take  him  through.  There  was  nothing  that 
should  not  have  been  managed  without  him,  and  he 
disapproved  of  incapacity.  After  his  early  fruit  and 
coffee  he  had  half  a  mind  to  countermand  the  car  and 
leave  them  to  learn  adequacy  by  enforced  responsi- 
bility. In  his  judgment  it  would  have  been  days  or 
even  weeks  before  such  slight  warnings  of  danger  as 
he  had  seen  would  have  resulted  in  a  complete  col- 
lapse of  the  Cutting,  unless  some  earthquake  shock 
(such  as  had  originally  showed  him  the  existence  of 
the  river)  had  again  visited  Reserve.  In  any  case, 
there  had  been  no  occasion  for  immediately  closing 
the  Cutting,  and  he  hoped  to  avoid  doing  so  entirely. 
But  the  motor  being  at  the  door,  he  decided  that  the 
early  drive  would  be  refreshing  after  a  hot  night,  and 
took  the  wheel  from  his  chauffeur.  Half  a  mile  from 
his  own  gate  his  attention  was  arrested  by  an  excla- 
mation from  the  Arab,  and  he  checked  the  car  to  allow 
him  to  get  down  and  investigate  a  heap  of  white  linen 
in  the  sand  at  a  short  distance  from  the  road. 

"Another  murder  case  for  the  Chief  Justice!" 
thought  Hervey  with  a  grim  smile.  "I'll  be  witness 
for  the  prosecution  this  time,  as  having  found  the 


286  EXILE 

body,  and  hear  whether  any  of  the  assailant's  sisters 
or  wives  are  of  Everard's  household  in  Banishment." 
He  checked  his  ironical  thought  as  his  man  came  run- 
ning back  with  a  pallid  face  and  distended  eyes. 

"By  Jove!  I  believe  it  is  a  murder!"  said  Hervey. 
"Those  cursed  Arab  knives  again,  and  too  much  co- 
caine, I  suppose." 

"It  is  Haines  Sahib  1"  panted  the  Arab  as  he  reached 
the  car.  "There  is  no  wound  upon  him,  and  therefore 
I  think  that  he  is  smitten  with  the  madness  of  the 
Rocks  and  will  die!" 

But  Hervey  was  out  of  the  car  before  he  had 
reached  the  end  of  his  sentence. 


CHAPTER   XVII 

"And  there  was  one  that  followed  her, 
With  that  unhappy  curse  called  'love'; 
Last  night,  though  winds  beat  loud  above, 
She  shrank !     Hark,  on  the  creaking  stair, 
What  stealthy  footstep  followed  her?" 

ALFRED  NOYES. 

TO  some  men  a  satellite  is  as  necessary  as  their 
daily  bread,  and  forms  the  basis  of  their  men- 
tal diet.  However  brilliant  their  natural  powers,  they 
cannot  use  them  without  an  audience,  and,  though 
they  may  be  much  stronger  personalities  than  those 
who  minister  to  their  vanity,  it  really  seems  as  if 
such  Boswells  were  necessary  for  the  development  of 
their  Johnsons. 

Edgar  Everard  was  of  this  calibre.  Though  he  had 
been  staggered  by  a  sudden  independence  on  Murga- 
troyd's part,  and  resented  it  with  all  the  mean  capac- 
ity of  his  nature,  he  was  so  dependent  on  the  Crown 
Prosecutor  for  food  for  his  vanity  that  he  could  not 
afford  to  quarrel  with  him.  He  realised  this  in  the 
moment  of  Murgatroyd's  denunciation,  and  curbed  his 
own  passion,  promising  himself  ample  revenge  later 
on.  He  knew  himself  Murgatroyd's  superior  in  every 
way  that  he  counted  an  advantage,  and  he  had  just 
gained  an  added  hold  over  him  through  the  knowledge 
of  his  devotion  to  Claudia.  That  this  very  love  should 
be  the  saving  clause  to  lift  the  weaker  man  into  the 

287 


288  EXILE 

nobility  of  strength  was  an  idea  which  could  not  dawn 
upon  the  Chief  Justice,  because  he  had  not  its  capac- 
ity in  himself.  He  looked  upon  Murgatroyd's  attack 
on  his  own  motives  and  actions  as  a  momentary  ebul- 
lition of  temper,  and  was  quick  to  adopt  an  attitude 
of  tolerance  that  reflected  credit  on  himself.  All  Ev- 
erard's  virtues  were  nicely  calculated  to  his  own  ad- 
vantage. 

He  had  gone  to  Reserve,  after  Claudia's  confession, 
ostensibly  on  business  connected  with  his  clerks,  for 
the  court  would  sit  in  a  few  days.  But  he  did  not  pass 
the  night  at  Hassan's  as  Claudia  would  have  concluded 
he  had  done  had  she  thought  about  it.  Her  own  life 
was  too  full  to  allow  her  to  speculate  much  on  her 
husband  in  his  absence,  and  had  she  known  that  he 
was  in  one  of  the  lowest  houses  in  the  native  quarter 
it  would  not  have  caused  her  more  than  a  passing 
wonder  that  men  could  call  that  pleasure — much  less 
desecrate  the  name  of  love  with  it.  Everard  himself 
would  of  course  have  charged  his  sins  at  his  wife's 
door,  even  though  he  thought  her  the  victim  of  his 
own  salvation.  And  there  are  many  better  men  who 
would  be  equally  illogical  and  dishonest  with  them- 
selves. 

As  the  hours  passed  with  Everard,  however,  his 
equilibrium  recovered  itself,  and  he  began  to  arrange 
the  situation  in  compliment  to  himself  upon  his  usual 
lines.  But  he  wanted  an  audience  in  order  to  shine 
properly  in  his  own  eyes,  and  for  this  he  looked  to 
Murgatroyd.  He  had  made  an  appointment  with  the 
Crown  Prosecutor  to  meet  him  at  the  court-house  in 
order  to  speak  to  him  officially  about  the  murder  trial ; 
Everard  had  settled  in  his  own  mind  that  they  should 


EXILE  289 

lunch  together,  and  that  he  would  heap  coals  of  fire 
on  Murgatroyd's  head  by  his  own  frank  kindness,  ig- 
noring what  had  passed  between  them,  though  never 
allowing  Murgatroyd  to  forget  it  When  they  met, 
however,  he  was  really  startled  at  the  man's  appear- 
ance after  his  sleepless  night,  and  his  expressions  of 
concern  were  almost  genuine. 

"My  dear  Stanley,  you  look  shockingly  ill — quite 
ghastly !"  he  said  with  a  plain  spokenness  that  was  by 
no  means  complimentary.  "You  have  been  worrying 
yourself,  quite  foolishly,  for  I  never  thought  again  of 
what  you  said  in  the  heat  of  the  moment.  Indeed,  I 
admired  you  for  it !" 

He  could  not  conceive  of  any  other  cause  of  worry 
to  Murgatroyd  more  important  than  himself  and  his 
own  attitude ;  but  the  Crown  prosecutor  flushed  a  dull, 
ugly  red  through  his  livid  skin,  and  his  hollow  eyes 
did  not  follow  Everard's  every  graceful  movement 
as  usual. 

"I  did  not  sleep— I  walked  about  most  of  the  night," 
he  said. 

"There!  I  told  you  you  had  been  foolish!"  said 
Everard.  He  laid  his  hand  protestingly  on  Murga- 
troyd's gaunt  shoulder,  but  there  was  a  certain  pleased 
triumph  in  his  smiling  eyes.  "You  will  never  be  able 
to  quarrel  with  me  in  earnest,  Stanley — you  would 
wear  yourself  to  rags  over  it  in  a  week!" 

Murgatroyd  did  not  answer  for  a  minute.  Then 
he  spoke  with  a  gasp,  as  if  he  wrenched  the  words 
from  himself.  "I  went  to  see  Claudia  this  morning. — 
During  my  wanderings  last  night,  or,  rather,  early 
this  morning,  I  thought  I  saw  a  suspicious  character,., 
an  Arab,  hanging  about  your  bungalow.  But  Claudia 


290  EXILE 

tells  me  that  she  heard  nothing — it  may  have  been  a 
friend  of  one  of  your  servants." 

"Keeping  guard  over  my  house  in  my  absence,  were 
you!"  said  Everard,  the  pressure  of  his  hand  increas- 
ing affectionately.  "You  are  a  good  old  watch-dog, 
Stanley!  But  I  expect  that  Claudia  was  right;  Arab 
servants  are  all  thieves  or  harlots." 

"You  are  very  good  to  take  it  like  this,"  said  Mur- 
gatroyd  with  a  kind  of  stiff  effort.  "For  after  what 
was  said  Between  us  I  feel  that  I  had  no  right  to 
watch  your  house,  or  perhaps — to  go  and  see  Claudia." 
He  spoke  more  slowly  than  usual  and  with  less  hu- 
mility. But  Everard  clutched  eagerly  at  the  conces- 
sion. 

"My  dear  Stanley!  You  know  I  trust  you  as  my- 
self. I  am  going  to  prove  it  to  you  by  taking  you  into 
my  confidence — what  one  man  in  a  thousand  would 
not  tell  another.  But  I,  as  you  know,  am  different  to 
the  nine  hundred  and  ninety-nine !  May  I  lunch  with 
you  to-day,  after  we  have  done  with  Somers  and  his 
depositions?  I  don't  want  to  go  home  until  I  have 
unburdened  my  mind." 

Murgatroyd  gave  the  invitation  demanded  of  him, 
but  with  unusual  reluctance.  It  had  been  an  unstated 
law  between  them  that  his  house  was  Everard's  and 
everything  he  possessed  at  his  disposal.  But  his  ser- 
vility had  gone  from  the  moment  when  he  rose  up  as 
Claudia's  champion,  and  was  not  to  be  so  easily  re- 
established. He  was  moody  and  silent  all  the  morn- 
ing, save  in  his  usual  methodical  attention  to  official 
business,  and  not  even  to  be  roused  by  the  Chief  Jus- 
tice's sallies,  whereat  Somers,  the  attorney,  laughed 
heartily.  But  having  ordered  things  in  his  own  way, 


EXILE  391 

Everard  was  not  affected  by  any  surliness  on  the  part 
of  his  tool ;  he  had  never  been  more  brilliant  after  his 
own  manner,  joking  even  over  the  murder  trial,  and 
openly  flippant  in  referring  to  the  Azeopardi  case. 

"If  they  do  not  take  longer  to  dispose  of  than  they 
have  to-day  I  shall  not  have  a  ten  days'  sitting,  Som- 
ers," he  said  gaily,  gathering  his  sheaf  of  papers  to- 
gether with  his  own  finely-moulded  hands.  Everard 
thought  his  own  hands  artistic,  and  said  they  were 
more  fitted  to  play  the  piano  than  Haines',  who  had 
coarsened  his  by  using  them  for  all  sorts  of  hobbies. 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  Chief  Justice's  were  much 
more  fitted  to  pick  a  pocket.  A  criminal  wants  more 
delicate  fingers  than  a  musician. 

"I  hear  there  is  a  good  deal  of  talk  in  the  bazaars 
about  this  murder,  sir,"  said  Somers  casually.  "The 
people  are  determined  that  Haroun  AH  shall  hang." 

"Are  they?"  The  Chief  Justice  turned  as  swiftly 
on  him  as  a  beast  of  prey,  showing  his  sharp-pointed 
teeth.  "They  have  constituted  themselves  a  supreme 
court,  then,  in  the  bazaars!" 

"Oh,  well,  sir,  I  only  repeat  what  I  hear!"  said 
Somers  apologetically.  "You  know  what  Arabs  are 
— they  get  excited  over  anything." 

"I'll  see  a  good  many  of  them  imprisoned  if  they 
get  excited  over  my  judgments !"  said  the  Chief  Jus- 
tice, with  his  eyes  alight.  "We  shall  want  a  new  wing 
to  the  prison  before  we've  done,  Somers.  Talk  in 
the  bazaars,  do  they !  I  would  like  to  hear  them  talk 
in  my  presence!" 

It  was  so  obvious  what  would  be  the  fate  of  any- 
body who  did  that  Somers  was  silenced.  Murgatroyd 
had  not  spoken,  but  as  they  drove  away  from  the 


292  EXILE 

court-house  in  Everard's  car  he  said  heavily,  "Somers 
did  right  to  tell  you.  There  has  been  some  disaffec- 
tion." 

But  Everard  laughed  with  a  kind  of  savage  intoxi- 
cation. "There  will  be  more  before  I  have  done,  Stan- 
ley! I  will  use  the  sword  in  my  hand  up  to  the  hilt, 
and  leave  a  record  behind  me  when  I  leave  that  shall 
outlive  me.  Azeopardi  must  go,  of  course;  and  if  the 
assessors  cannot  prove  premeditation  I  shall  discharge 
Haroun  AH." 

"Do  you  think  the  man  innocent?"  said  Murga- 
troyd  bluntly. 

"I  think  I  have  the  power  to  discharge  him!" 

Murgatroyd  did  not  speak  again  till  they  reached 
his  lonely  bungalow,  and  then  gave  a  brief  order  to 
his  butler  about  luncheon.  He  did  not  drink  himself, 
but  he  placed  wine  before  his  guest,  and  Everard's 
eyes  grew  brighter  still  as  he  emptied  his  glass.  With 
the  stimulant  his  tongue  was  loosened,  and  he  began 
to  tell  Murgatroyd  what  Claudia  had  told  him,  colour- 
ing the  confession  from  his  own  standpoint. 

"Stanley,  there  is  nothing  my  wife  would  not  do  or 
bear  for  me!  I  see  that  now.  At  the  time  I  was 
stunned  by  her  confession — I  could  think  of  nothing 
but  my  own  wrong.  But  I  see  now  that  she  did  it  for 
my  sake.  I  must  forgive  her  because  she  made  a  su- 
preme sacrifice  of  herself  for  my  safety.  Yes,  I  say 
supreme  sacrifice,  and  I  use  the  word  'forgive' !  Many 
men  would  not  be  wide-minded  enough  to  do  this,  but 
you  know  me — you  know  that  I  have  an  extraordinary 
power  of  grasping  the  realities  of  life  and  breaking 
the  bonds  of  convention." 

His  voice  had  risen,  and  became  full-throated  as 


EXILE  293 

when  he  spoke  in  court.  Indeed,  he  was  absorbed  in 
the  vindication  of  his  own  attitude  and  almost  obliv- 
ious of  his  listener,  who  had  never  uttered  a  word 
throughout  the  waste  of  words.  Murgatroyd's 
knotted  hands  were  clasped  on  his  knee,  the  fingers 
twisting  and  untwisting  like  some  creature  writhing 
in  agony;  but  except  for  the  involuntary  movement 
he  was  motionless,  and  as  the  two  men  sat  with  the 
lunch-table  and  the  wine  between  them  Everard  could 
not  see  those  working  hands.  He  was  enjoying  his 
own  mental  attitude,  which  must  be  an  inevitable  sur- 
prise to  his  audience. 

"I  left  Claudia  thinking  that  she  had  estranged  me 
for  ever,"  he  said,  flushed  with  the  wine  and  his  own 
self -admiration.  "I  am  going  home  to  tell  her  that 
this  is  not  so — that  I  forgive  her! — and  she  will  be 
ready  to  fall  at  my  feet  and  bless  me.  Who  knows? 
This  may  be  the  beginning  of  a  new  and  closer  union 
for  us!" 

If  he  had  half -forgotten  his  listener  he  remembered 
him  in  those  last  words  and  hoped  to  dip  the  sword 
in  venom  for  him.  He  knew  that  Murgatroyd  loved 
his  wife,  and  intended  to  awake  a  physical  jealousy 
by  the  hint  of  his  marital  rights.  Physical  jealousy 
was  Everard's  chief  test  of  love,  and  he  glanced  across 
the  table  with  his  brilliant  shallow  eyes  to  see  if  his 
victim  winced.  _  Murgatroyd  was  looking  at  him 
strangely,  it  is  true,  but  what  he  said  was  ominous  of 
a  thought  that  Everard  could  not  follow. 

"Do  not  be  too  sure!" 

The  Chief  Justice  laughed  with  a  spice  of  triumph. 
He  thought  the  warning  prompted  solely  by  the  wish, 
and  could  afford  to  brush  it  aside.  When  he  left, 


294  EXILE 

still  dressed  in  the  vision  of  his  own  generosity,  he 
laid  his  hand  on  Murgatroyd's  shoulder  again  and 
urged  him  not  to  stay  away  from  his  house  on  any 
foolish  pretext  of  misunderstanding. 

"You  will  see  a  change  between  Claudia  and  me 
when  you  come!"  he  said.  "We  shall  look  for  you." 

He  was  in  a  mood  of  high  self-glorification  that 
lasted  him  all  the  way  home.  It  was  upon  him  still 
as  he  entered  his  wife's  presence,  and  he  looked  at  her 
with  kindling  eyes  that  saw  her  beauty  afresh  as 
warmer  and  more  desirable  than  he  had  ever  known 
it.  And  in  that  he  judged  rightly,  for  Claudia  was 
developing  in  her  own  heart-happiness  as  a  flower 
expands  in  the  sunshine.  He  really  thought  that  his 
desire  towards  her  was  an  admirable  thing,  and  saw 
himself  in  a  halo  of  generosity,  though  his  appetite 
had  been  whetted  first  by  the  discovery  of  Murga- 
troyd's devotion,  and  then  by  a  strange  inversion 
through  her  confession  of  Hervey's  terms  for  the  let- 
ter. Everard  used  swollen  words  about  his  honour, 
but  the  situation  had  begun  to  pique  his  interest  and 
increase  her  value  to  him  rather  than  the  reverse.  His 
mind  had  reached  a  stage  when  a  suggestion  of  de- 
bauchery at  least  was  necessary  to  stimulate  his  pas- 
sions. He  was  a  decadent,  and  if  his  wife  had  been 
of  the  same  type  as  himself  he  would  have  tried  to 
discuss  it  with  her,  and  played  with  the  details,  even 
while  he  professed  a  stereotyped  repugnance.  Had 
they  not  lived  so  remotely  from  each  other  Claudia 
would  long  since  have  lost  the  admiring  attitude  with 
which  she  had  entered  on  marriage  with  him;  but  it 
had  needed  his  own  action  to  open  her  eyes,  his  own 
self-revelation  to  expose  him  to  her.  She  seemed  to 


EXILE  295 

see  him  very  plainly  unveiled  to-day  as  he  came  into 
the  cool  shade  of  the  bungalow  from  the  baked  world 
outside,  and  she  shuddered  a  little  inwardly  while  she 
looked  up  with  a  civil  greeting. 

"Stanley  called  here  this  morning,  Edgar,  and  asked 
for  you.  He  was  afraid  that  some  Arab  was  trying  to 
break  into  the  bungalow  in  your  absence ;  but  I  heard 
nothing  of  it." 

"I  know,  my  dear!  I  lunched  with  Stanley.  He 
told  me  all  about  it.  He  is  an  old  watch-dog — faith- 
ful old  fool!"  He  seemed  pleased  with  this  phrase, 
which  had  lingered  in  his  memory  as  appropriate,  only 
enriched  with  the  word  "fool."  "I  have  been  talking 
to  Stanley  about  you,  Claudia.  I  think  I  surprised 
him." 

"You  surprise  me." 

"Why?" — He  did  not  wish  his  generosity  to  be 
forestalled  or  guessed  beforehand,  and  he  spoke  al- 
most sharply.  His  wife  was  sitting  in  her  usual  chair 
by  the  little  table  that  had  held  her  flowers,  and  now 
held  her  work-basket,  for  she  was  stitching  at  some 
soft  white  work,  and  her  wine-coloured  eyes  were  not 
raised  from  her  employment  as  she  spoke.  Everard 
sat  down  on  the  other  side  of  the  table,  his  narrow 
face  thrust  forward  a  little  in  his  contemplation  of 
her. 

"What  surprises  you,  Claudia?" 

"That  you  should  discuss  me  with  Stanley  Murga- 
troyd — or  any  man." 

"Oh,  nonsense.  Stanley  is  an  old  friend — a  faith- 
ful old  watch-dog  to  us  both."  (He  certainly  liked 
that  phrase.)  "It  was  like  speaking  my  heart  out  to 
myself." 


296  EXILE 

"Or  wearing  it  on  your  sleeve ?" 

He  did  not  heed  the  quiet  irony,  for  he  had  got  his 
opening.  "You  will  be  more  surprised  when  you  hear 
what  I  said  about  you,  Claudia!  I  told  Stanley  of 
your  wonderful  sacrifice  for  me — yes,  wonderful!  I 
used  that  word.  My  poor  girl,  you  thought  I  left 
you  in  just  anger  yesterday — you  thought  my  attitude 
was  that  of  the  outraged  husband;  and  so  it  might 
have  been  with  most  men.  But  you  did  not  know 
me!" 

He  paused  as  if  expecting  some  cue  of  admiration 
or  entreaty;  but  she  was  as  silent  as  Murgatroyd  had 
been.  She  did  indeed  seem  breathless  with  surprise, 
for  her  busy  hands  had  stopped  their  work,  and  her 
eyes,  dark  with  something  like  incredulous  fear,  were 
looking  straight  before  her. 

"You  told  Stanley  about — that!"  she  said  at  last  in 
a  low  voice. 

"Yes,  and  I  justified  you!"  he  returned,  his  voice 
rising  in  triumph.  "Oh,  you  may  trust  me,  Claudia! 
You  need  not  fear  even  to  speak  of  it  to  me.  I  am 
struck  with  your  courage — your  great  devotion  to 
me.  I  think  of  nothing  else.  Do  not  be  afraid  that  I 
shall  shrink  from  you.  Yesterday  you  were  able  to 
blurt  out  nothing  but  the  bare  facts.  You  may  tell 
me  the  whole  story  now.  I  shall  only  pity  you,  for 
you  were  a  martyr  in  my  cause !" 

Claudia's  hands  had  risen  instinctively  to  her  breast 
with  a  movement  that  was  a  characteristic  of  hers. 
She  pressed  them  hard  over  her  raging  heart,  which 
seemed  as  if  it  must  kill  her.  The  scene  was  hideous 
to  her,  with  its  elements  of  grotesqueness  and  ugly 
tragedy  and  the  intolerable  vanity  and  vileness  of  the 


EXILE  297 

man  before  her.  If  he  had  cursed  her  she  could  have 
forgiven  him  better.  For  in  a  flash  she  realised  that 
he  was  curious ;  he  hated  Hervey  as  a  weak  man  hates 
a  strong,  and  would  like  to  have  stripped  him  of  all 
decency  even  by  the  means  of  his  own  wife's  degrada- 
tion. Had  she  not  loved  Richmond  Hervey  the  thing- 
would  have  shocked  her  with  regard  to  herself.  The 
two  together  became  intolerable. 

"There  is  nothing  to  say, — nothing  but  the  bare 
fact,"  she  said,  and  her  own  voice  sounded  cracked 
and  hoarse  to  her  from  the  strain  she  put  upon  herself 
to  speak  at  all.  "You  must  resent  it  or  not  as  you 
please.  But  this  must  never  be  discussed  between  us 
again." 

He  gave  a  restless  movement  of  impatience.  "But, 
Claudia,  you  do  not  understand  me!"  he  said.  "I  am 
willing  to  forgive  it."  He  looked  at  her  half-furtively, 
the  heaving  lines  of  her  breast,  the  beauty  that  no 
mental  disturbance  could  make  less,  and  one  hand 
moved  stealthily  as  if  he  would  fain  grasp  at  it.  "I 
am  willing  to  take  you  back!"  he  said  in  a  whisper. 
"I  will  make  you  forget  all  this — to-night." 

She  did  not  cry  out.  She  rose  quite  steadily,  thrust- 
ing her  chair  back  with  a  force  that  grated  on  the 
carpetless  floor.  But  the  face  she  turned  on  him  was 
like  the  Gorgon  face  that  changed  men  to  stone. 

"There  can  never  be  a  question  of  that  between  you 
and  me  again,"  she  said  finally.  "I  have  told  you  so 
once  before.  You  are  mad  to  think  it.  Let  me  go 
away  to  Europe  at  once  if  you  are  wise.  But  the  less 
that  passes  between  us  now  the  better.  I  have  heard 
from  yourself  what  your  principles  are — they  are  not 
mine.  You  have  used  your  power  to  ruin  other  inno- 


298  EXILE 

cent  men,  and  you  mean  to  do  it  again  for  your  own 
advantage.  I  warn  you  now  that  I  am  not  of  your 
party,  and  you  had  better  let  me  know  no  more  of 
your  schemes.  There  is  this  Petition  out  against  you, 
of  which  I  have  told  you  already.  You,  as  a  judge, 
know  what  miscarriage  of  justice  means,  and  the  con- 
sequences to  yourself  of  an  inquiry  by  the  High 
Court." 

Her  voice  had  regained  its  music,  and  she  never 
faltered  even  though  he  started  up,  with  his  eyes  flar- 
ing. Before  he  could  speak  she  had  turned  away  from 
him  and  gone  into  her  room.  He  heard  the  key  turn 
in  the  lock  significantly — he  heard  the  door  closed 
against  him  once  and  for  all 


CHAPTER   XVIII 

"Thou  art  like  silence  all  unvexed, 

Though  wild  words  part  my  soul  from  thee. 
Thou  art  like  silence  unperplexed, 

A  secret  and  a  mystery 
Between  one  footfall  and  the  next." 

ALICE  MEYNELL. 

SAID'S  village  was  of  the  most  elementary  kind, 
and  consisted  merely  in  the  thatched  huts  of 
half-a-dozen  families,  each  in  its  own  outer  fencing. 
There  were  no  shops  and  no  industries,  Golgotha  hav- 
ing absorbed  both  the  trade  and  the  workers.  The 
women  of  the  community,  however,  wove  the  mats, 
each  for  her  own  family,  with  which  the  tiny  square 
huts  were  made,  something  after  the  fashion  of  a 
Somali  kuria,  though  they  were  hardly  so  skilful  as 
the  Somalis.  The  huts  were  arranged  in  rows  facing 
each  other,  with  a  small  courtyard  between,  and  nar- 
row passages  leading  from  one  of  these  miniature 
blocks  to  that  behind  it.  Even  the  outside  wall,  which 
answered  to  the  "ring  fence"  of  an  English  landowner, 
was  made  of  rough  matting.  It  was  only  the  ovens 
that  were  of  mud. 

Mrs.  Everard  had  left  her  carriage  at  Golgotha, 
where  Said  and  his  camel  awaited  her,  and  mounting 
the  beast,  rode  out  the  two  miles  across  the  sand  and 
the  camel-thorn.  In  the  dazzling  distance  the  furthest 
ramparts  of  the  Rocks  ran  out  to  Fort  Headland,  and 

299 


300  EXILE 

she  kept  them  in  sight  all  the  way  on  her  left;  but  to 
the  right  there  was  nothing  but  the  long  ribs  of  sand. 
Said  hardly  spoke  to  her.  He  strode  on  barefooted 
over  the  desert,  leading  his  camel,  in  a  seeming  great 
content,  for  his  dark  face  was  serener  than  a  smile 
beneath  the  white  turban.  The  camel  was  not  yet  full- 
grown,  but  it  moved  easily,  and  only  uttered  the  pro- 
testing "Ha,  ha-ha-ha-ha-HA !"  at  intervals  when  some 
unknown  cause  disturbed  its  mind.  It  was  consider- 
ably smaller  than  the  great  bull  that  had  carried  Mrs. 
Everard  to  and  from  Reserve,  but  seeing  it  by  day. 
light  she  was  struck  by  the  peculiar  similarity  to  a  lion 
in  certain  points  of  the  beast.  In  colour  it  was  the 
same  greyish  fawn  as  the  lion ;  the  tail  with  its  fringed 
end  was  something  the  same,  and  the  great  width  of 
the  head  with  its  small  ears  was  not  unlike  as  seen 
from  above.  Only  the  long,  contemptuous  lip  and  the 
unfathomable  eyes  were  totally  dissimilar,  and  it  is 
these  and  the  quaint  body  that  mark  its  characteristics 
to  most  people's  minds.  Mrs.  Everard  liked  camels, 
and  rubbed  her  foot  gently  against  the  swinging  neck 
as  they  slipped  over  the  sand  in  a  gait  between  a  run 
and  a  walk.  She  liked,  too,  the  high  seat  that  enabled 
her  to  look  out  widely  over  the  desert  as  they  jour- 
neyed. 

"Is  that  your  village,  Said?"  she  said  at  last  "I 
can  see  roofs  amongst  the  camel-thorn." 

"Yes,  ya  Sitt.  It  is  not  far."  He  led  the  camel 
out  of  the  narrow  track  they  were  following,  across 
rough  ground  that  would  have  tried  a  less  practised 
walker,  and  a  minute  later  they  were  outside  the  mat 
wall  and  he  commanded  the  camel  to  sit  down.  Half- 
a-dozen  donkeys  and  two  other  camels  were  already 


EXILE  301 

tethered  there  eating  a  scanty  meal  of  hay,  and  Mrs. 
Everard  saw  some  lean  hens  scratching  in  the  sand. 

She  stepped  down  from  the  native  saddle  and  fol- 
lowed Said  inside  the  fence,  finding  herself  almost  at 
once  in  a  courtyard  and  the  centre  of  his  family. 
Some  of  them  she  knew  already — Othman,  his  elder 
brother,  and  old  Mahomed,  his  uncle,  who  worked  in 
the  pottery  works  at  Golgotha;  but  the  women  and 
children  she  had,  of  course,  never  seen  before,  as 
this  was  her  first  visit.  They  were  of  a  poorer  class 
than  Hassan's  household,  but  the  faces  were  no  less 
beautiful,  and  in  truth  no  less  happy.  Mrs.  Everard 
flung  up  the  blue  veil  she  had  been  wearing  in  the  glare 
of  the  desert,  and  they  crowded  about  her,  kissing 
their  own  hands  before  shaking  hers  with  that  prettiest 
of  all  salutations,  and  holding  their  children  up  for  her 
inspection. 

Said's  house  was  not  yet  finished,  as  he  said,  for  he 
was  but  newly  married,  so  Claudia  was  ushered  into 
Othman's,  which  was  typical  of  all  the  rest.  It  was 
some  ten  feet  square — for  it  consisted  of  the  one  room 
— and  all  the  furniture  was  but  a  row  of  cushions 
placed  all  round  it  on  the  mud  floor.  The  mat  walls 
were  plastered  on  the  inside  to  give  them  more  sta- 
bility, and  were  adorned  with  at  least  twenty  saucers 
of  various  patterns  and  shapes,  from  painted  tins  to 
fine  china.  There  were  no  cups,  though  a  trayful  with 
coffee  was  brought  in  immediately  afterwards  by  way 
of  refreshment.  Apparently  the  saucers  were  re- 
garded as  supremely  ornamental,  and  were  hung  on 
the  walls  as  Europeans  hang  pictures. 

Mrs.  Everard  sat  down  on  the  cushions  with  the 
family  grouped  round  her  while  she  drank  her  coffee. 


302  EXILE 

They  almost  filled  the  room — the  children  in  the  centre 
of  the  floor  and  Said  and  Othman  standing  in  the 
open  doorway. 

"And  which  is  Said's  wife?"  she  said. 

A  young  woman  leaned  forward,  smiling  and  show- 
ing1 a  row  of  flawless  teeth  between  full,  curved  lips. 
She  was  much  more  mature  in  appearance  than  Said, 
though  they  were  probably  about  the  same  age,  and  if 
not  so  beautiful  a  type  as  her  husband,  she  was  sug- 
gestive of  a  natural  maternity  in  the  lines  of  her  swell- 
ing breasts  and  free  hips.  She  sat  on  the  cushions 
with  her  dull  red  surra  tucked  round  her,  and  looked 
at  Claudia  with  frank  admiration.  Indeed,  the  mur- 
mured comments  on  their  visitor's  gold  hair,  fair  skin, 
and  deeply  marked  eyes  were  almost  embarrassing, 
though  entirely  free  from  any  jealousy.  They  liked 
to  look  at  Al  Siyyidha  as  at  some  beautiful  jewel,  and 
to  listen  to  her  low  voice.  One  of  the  men  had  been 
making  nets,  and  a  dozen  laughing  voices  demanded 
of  Claudia  whether  she  could  net  too.  She  took  the 
shuttle  and  needle  in  her  hands  and  passed  the  twine 
swiftly  to  and  fro  to  show  that  she  knew  the  stitch, 
and  the  women  clustered  round  her  to  see.  It  was 
while  they  did  so  that  her  accustomed  ears  caught  the 
gist  of  an  Arab  phrase  passing  between  the  old  man 
Mahomed  and  Said,  and  her  heart  seemed  to  stop 
beating  as  she  followed  the  sense. 

"If  he  does  not  kill  Haroun  Ali  they  will  kill  him!" 

"Without  doubt.  But  al  Sitt  were  well  rid  of  such 
a  lord." 

Claudia  gave  the  netting  back  into  the  women's 
hands  with  a  smile,  hoping  that  her  lips  were  not  so 
stiff  as  they  felt.  She  had  warned  Everard  of  the 


EXILE  303 

unpopularity  of  his  judgments  as  in  honour  bound; 
but  she  had  not  felt  herself  further  responsible  if  he 
were  impregnable  in  his  folly,  believing  that  his  chief 
danger  lay  in  an  investigation  by  the  Colonial  Office, 
or  more  serious  still  by  the  Privy  Council.  Now  the 
clanger  seemed  to  start  up  nearer  at  hand,  menacing 
him  personally — a  disaster  which  he  had  only  feared 
through  the  publication  of  the  letter  he  had  written  to 
Hervey.  For  she  could  not  mistake  that  phrase  of 
Mahomed's  and  Said's  answer: 

"Without  doubt.  But  al  Sitt  were  well  rid  of  such 
a  lord!" 

She  had  recognised  the  young  Mahomedan's  devo- 
tion to  her,  a  devotion  such  as  a  Christian  might  give 
his  patron  saint,  for  Said  did  not  rank  her  as  he  did 
his  own  women,  but  rather  as  something  miraculous 
and  without  sex;  but  she  had  not  realised  his  antago- 
nism to  Everard,  or  the  tales  of  him  that  must  pass  in 
the  bazaars.  She  was  feverishly  anxious  to  get  Said 
alone  and  question  him  as  to  her  husband's  danger, 
but  she  could  not  cut  short  her  visit,  and  had  to  make 
a  tour  of  inspection  of  the  other  houses,  which  were 
exactly  similar  to  Othman's,  and  to  see  the  shell  of 
Said's,  which  was  rapidly  nearing  completion. 

"It  is  a  very  nice  house,  Said!"  she  said  kindly. 
"And  what  will  you  put  in  it?  You  must  let  me  send 
you  something  for  the  furnishing!" 

Said's  wife  smiled  and  dimpled  with  pleasure.  She 
loved  presents,  and  no  doubt  Al  Siyyidha  would  send 
them  something  very  beautiful  that  should  outshine 
all  the  rest  of  the  family  possessions.  Said  did  not 
smile,  but  his  acceptance  of  her  offer  made  Claudia 
feel  that  the  honour  would  be  hers  in  giving. 


304  EXILE 

When  they  left  the  village,  and  Mrs.  Everard  re- 
mounted the  camel,  the  sun  was  already  beginning 
to  slant  across  the  sand,  and  the  shadow  of  the  camel 
went  before,  a  thing  of  the  strangest  angles  on  stilt 
legs,  running  across  the  desert.  Claudia  waited  till 
they  were  back  in  the  track  and  then  leaned  forward 
from  her  seat  and  spoke. 

"Said!" 

"Ya  Sitt?"  He  half  paused,  the  camel  rope  in  his 
hand,  his  beautiful  face  uplifted  to  her  in  the  evening 
light. 

"What  is  this  that  is  being  said  about  the  trial  of 
Haroun  Ali?" 

"The  people  know  that  he  killed  the  man,  ya  Sitt !" 

"They  think  that  he  must  die  also  ?" 

"It  is  just!" 

"And  if  he  is — discharged?" 

"There  is  no  saying.  It  would  be  well  to  warn  the 
Lord  Judge!" 

Claudia  looked  down  at  him  wonderingly.  There 
was  no  alteration  in  the  beautiful  gravity  of  his  face, 
and  she  marvelled  that  he  had  been  induced  to  say  so 
much,  for  her  knowledge  of  the  Arab  told  her  that 
had  she  asked  Othman  or  Mahomed  they  would  have 
been  blankly  innocent  of  all  knowledge,  even  though  a 
riot  were  impending  the  next  hour.  It  was  only  Said's 
respect  for  her  that  caused  him  to  answer  her  ques- 
tions, but  she  had  a  vague  feeling  that  it  would  not 
deter  him  from  some  public  demonstration  against 
Everard  if  Haroun  Ali  escaped  justice. 

She  leaned  back  in  her  seat  in  silence,  thinking 
what  she  ought  to  do.  Undoubtedly  there  was  mis- 
chief brewing,  or  Said  would  not  have  admitted  so 


EXILE  305 

much,  but  the  difficulty  was  to  check  Everard's  reck- 
less abuse  of  his  position  and  to  avoid  any  connection 
between  her  warning  and  her  visit  to  Said's  family 
to-day.  She  was  quite  determined  that  the  village  in 
the  sand  should  not  suffer,  but  she  knew  that  revenge 
would  be  Everard's  first  action  if  he  traced  any  re- 
ports of  discontent  to  that  quarter.  She  had  made  no 
secret  of  her  excursion,  though  they  had  hardly  ex- 
changed a  word  since  the  afternoon  before.  Everard 
appeared  to  be  sulking,  his  furious  temper  only  await- 
ing an  outlet,  and  she  had  been  worried  as  to  her  plan 
of  action.  She  did  not  want  to  appeal  to  Hervey  if  it 
could  be  helped,  her  preference  being  to  go  to  Europe 
as  soon  as  might  be  and  break  the  tie  to  Everard  in 
that  way;  but  'she  was  aware  that  Everard  would 
oppose  her  now  by  every  means  in  his  power,  and  the 
matter  was  further  complicated  by  the  revelation  she 
had  had  in  the  village. 

As  they  neared  Golgotha  her  thoughts  turned  in- 
stinctively to  Hervey  as  the  way  out  of  her  difficulties. 
She  had  meant  to  take  the  risk  of  calling  at  his  house 
under  some  conventional  excuse,  knowing  that  Said 
would  not  talk  of  her;  now  she  had  an  added  reason 
in  the  necessity  to  consult  him.  He  was  her  Man,  and 
all  the  woman  in  her  demanded  that  he  should  share 
her  burdens.  They  passed  through  Golgotha,  with  its 
squalid  streets  and  the  crowded  zareba,  where  the 
Arabs  from  Health  left  their  camels  the  while  they 
trafficked  in  sweetmeats  and  the  tainted  meat  of  the 
market.  From  under  her  blue  veil  Claudia  looked 
with  pitiful  eyes  at  the  poor,  hunched  beasts  with  the 
packs  still  on  their  backs  and  probably  saddle-sores 
beneath.  She  was  an  active  member  of  the  S.P.C.A- 


306  EXILE 

in  Exile,  but  it  was  difficult  to  get  a  perfectly  new  idea 
into  the  heads  of  a  race  that  has  always  been  more  or 
less  cruel,  not  from  intention,  but  from  ignorance. 

"I  am  glad  your  camel  is  not  like  these,  Said !"  she 
said  with  a  shiver.  "I  could  not  ride  one  of  those  poor 
ill-treated  beasts." 

"Their  masters  are  poor — they  come  from  the  Port 
and  the  villages  further  in  the  desert,"  said  Said 
simply.  The  explanation  seemed  to  him  adequate,  but 
Mrs.  Everard  did  not  pursue  the  subject.  She  was 
glad  to  get  away  from  the  little  white  houses  and  out 
on  to  the  road,  along  which  she  could  already  see  the 
crowns  of  Hervey's  date-palms  swinging  in  the  wind. 
Her  eyes  grew  soft  as  velvet  and  her  lips  parted  with 
a  quick  breath.  But  it  was  Said  who  pointed  to  the 
bungalow  with  his  driving  stick  to  draw  her  attention. 

"There  is  sickness  there,  ya  Sitt.  A  kawagar  (gen- 
tleman) was  stricken  by  the  Rocks  to-day,  and  Hervey 
Sahib  found  him  in  the  desert.'* 

"Another !"  exclaimed  Claudia.  "Why,  it  was  poor 
Mr.  Smyth,  of  the  Eastern  Telegraph,  only  a  few  days 
ago !"  The  news  had  not  reached  her  as  yet,  and  she 
inquired  the  name.  "Do  you  know  who  it  was,  Said  ?" 

"I  heard  that  it  was  Haines  Sahib,  the  Colonial 
Secretary." 

Claudia  almost  uttered  a  cry  of  dismay.  "Oh,  Said, 
it  can't  be !  Why,  I  saw  him  only  yesterday  going  up 
to  Government  House.  How  dreadful!  I  must  stop 
and  inquire." 

The  carriage  she  had  ordered  to  drive  her  back  to 
Fort  was  standing  near  to  the  entrance  gates  of  Her- 
vey's bungalow,  but  Claudia,  without  dismounting, 
rode  the  camel  in  and  up  the  drive,  telling  Said  to  go 


EXILE  307 

back  and  explain  to  the  abuggi  that  she  should  not  be 
long,  after  he  had  left  her  at  the  bungalow.  She  dis- 
mounted at  the  door,  and  hastily  thanking  Said  she 
went  forward  to  meet  Hervey's  white-liveried  butler. 

"Can  I  see  Mr.  Hervey?  I  hear  that  Mr.  Haines 
has  been  taken  very  ill  here!" 

"Yes,  madam,"  said  the  man  in  careful  English. 
He  recognised  Claudia,  but  whatever  he  knew,  or 
guessed,  his  manner  was  that  of  the  well-trained  Ori- 
ental who  knows  and  sees  nothing.  "Mr.  Haines  is 
here.  He  has  a  nurse.  He  is  very  ill !" 

"Is  Mr.  Hervey  at  home?" 

"Yes,  madam.     I  go  to  find  him." 

He  ushered  Claudia  into  the  familiar  hall  where  she 
had  sat  and  smoked  with  Hervey  after  her  memorable 
dinner.  Her  blood  was  tingling  with  the  memory  as 
she  stood  there,  despite  her  distress  about  Rodney 
Haines,  and  when  she  heard  Hervey's  step  upon  the 
stairs  she  turned  her  face  away  almost  childishly  and 
could  not  quite  look  at  him. 

"I  am  so  very  distressed,"  she  said,  giving  him  her 
hand  before  the  butler.  "I  have  been  out  to  see  a 
village  in  the  sand  with  my  Arab  teacher,  and  on  the 
way  back  he  has  just  told  me  of  Mr.  Haines'  seizure. 
It  is  very  sudden,  for  I  saw  him  only  yesterday  morn- 
ing. I  felt  I  must  come  in  and  inquire.  Is  he  very 
ill?" 

"He  has  a  temperature  of  106  degrees,"  said  Her- 
vey inclusively.  "Won't  you  come  into  the  dining- 
room,  Mrs.  Everard,  and  I  will  give  you  some  tea." 

He  led  the  way  to  the  more  private  room,  with  a 
nod  to  the  butler  to  get  the  offered  refreshment. 


308  EXILE 

When  they  were  alone  he  took  her  face  in  his  hands 
and  looked  at  her  long  and  thirstily. 

"Claudia,  you  are  like  a  well  in  the  desert !"  he  said. 
"I  believe  you  carry  healing  in  your  eyes!" 

His  own  face  was  lined  and  tired  as  if  with  watch- 
ing, and  she  put  her  hands  upon  his  great  shoulders 
and  returned  his  gaze  with  some  concern. 

"You  look  very  weary,  Ritchie!  Have  you  been 
with  him  all  day?" 

"Most  of  it.  I  was  obliged  to  leave  him  to  the  nurse 
and  doctors  this  morning,  after  I  got  them  out  here, 
and  go  into  Reserve.  They  are  in  a  funk  at  the  works 
because  there  has  been  some  slipping  and  they  expect 
a  collapse." 

"Two  troubles  at  once!    Is  it  serious?" 

"Oh,  no;  only  it  will  delay  those  pipe  lines  a  bit," 
he  said  grimly.  "And  it  may  shut  up  the  Cutting  for 
a  day  or  so  and  send  you  a  mile  round  to  Reserve  by 
the  old  road.  But  I  hope  that  may  not  happen.  At 
present  the  danger  is  negligible,  and  as  it  has  only 
occurred  on  one  side  I  think  we  may  be  able  to  stop 
it  going  further.  It  will  be  a  nuisance  if  the  Cutting 
is  closed." 

"That  does  not  matter,"  said  Claudia,  with  no  pre- 
monition of  how  it  might  matter  for  life  or  death. 
"Tell  me  about  Mr.  Haines.  Where  did  you  find 
him?" 

"About  half  a  mile  out  on  the  sand,  lying  on  his 
face." 

"Was  he  stricken  by  rock  madness?" 

"I  don't  believe  in  it !"  Hervey  shrugged  his  shoul- 
ders. "I  have  lived  with  the  Rocks  for  fifteen  years, 


EXILE  309 

and  they  have  not  beaten  me  yet!  Haines  was  over- 
worked and  had  a  private  trouble  to  finish  him." 

"Oh,  don't  boast,  Ritchie!  I  have  grown  super- 
stitious with  regard  to  you.  I  am  so  frightened  at 
my  own  happiness." 

He  flung  his  arm  round  her  shoulders  almost 
roughly.  "Nothing  shall  separate  you  and  me!"  he 
said.  "You  are  with  me  every  minute  of  the  day, 
even  when  your  body  is  absent.  I  am  beginning  to 
believe  in  spirit  communion,  Claudia." 

"I  told  you  you  would!"  Her  eyes  flashed  into 
violet  lights  between  the  lashes,  and  the  short  upper 
lip  lifted  with  its  hint  of  a  smile. 

"Am  I  learning  the  A.B.C.  of  love,  darling?" 

"I  think  so,  Ritchie."  She  laughed  a  little,  forget- 
ful for  the  moment  of  the  tragedy  upstairs.  "I  know 
even  by  the  way  you  touch  me.  You  don't  clutch  as 
you  did !  I  am  not  going  to  vanish  into  thin  air." 

"Was  I  very  brutal?" 

"It  was  only  your  way  of  showing  me.  You  are 
showing  me  still,  only  in  other  ways." 

"I  shall  never  quite  lose  hold  of  the  physical  show- 
ing, Claudia!" 

She  stepped  back,  but  quietly  and  without  haste,  as 
the  tea  was  brought  in;  and  then  they  sat  down  and 
ate  and  drank  together,  and  it  seemed  most  natural 
and  happy,  as  if  they  were  doing  it  every  day.  Of  all 
meals,  breakfast  and  tea  create  the  most  domestic 
atmosphere.  There  is  always  a  sense  of  invitation,  of 
host  and  guest,  at  luncheon  and  dinner. 

"Tell  me  why  you  think  Mr.  Haines  has  a  private 
trouble,"  said  Claudia  thoughtfully,  as  she  drank  her 
tea.  It  was  growing  dusk  in  the  large  room,  but  he 


310  EXILE 

had  not  rung  for  lights,  and  Hervey's  servants  knew 
when  to  wait  for  orders. 

"He  has  broken  with  Miss  Playfair,"  said  Hervey 
bluntly. 

"Did  he  tell  you  so?" 

"No;  he  has  not  been  capable  of  telling  anybody 
anything  as  yet.  He  has  babbled — simply  gibbered — 
all  day.  But  that  is  the  gist  of  it." 

"I  wonder  why!"  said  Claudia  slowly.  "The  girl 
herself  came  to  me  some  days  ago,  as  I  told  you,  and 
asked  me  for  advice,  and  I  told  her  that  it  was  as  bad. 
as  murder  to  marry  without  love.  I  would  have  told 
her  that  it  was  worse — an  outrage  on  decency — if  she 
had  not  been  so  young.  But  I  could  not  put  it  plainer." 

"You  were  brave  to  say  so  much." 

"I  have  a  right  to  speak.  I  have  bought  my  own 
experience.  But  I  do  not  think  she  meant  to  break  it 
off  herself,  nevertheless.  At  least,  she  would  not  do 
so  yet.  She  was  thinking  it  out.  Something  must 
have  happened." 

"You  thought  it  was  Merryn?" 

"I  thought  it  might  be.  Men  are  so  very  final !  A 
girl  is  simply  a  creature  of  possibilities,  and  it  may 
not  even  have  taken  form  in  her  mind.  Do  you  think 
Rodney  Haines  is  going  to  live,  Ritchie?" 

"I  can't  say.  The  doctor  thinks  not!"  Hervey 
never  minced  matters.  "If  we  can  pull  him  through 
we  shall." 

"I  shall  think  of  you  so  much!  But  don't  fall  ill 
yourself." 

"I !    I'm  like  a  camel — nothing  kills  me !" 

He  laughed  tenderly,  and  his  large  hand  closed  over 
hers.  Each  fresh  proof  of  her  interest  in  him,  or  her 


EXILE  311 

tenderness,  seemed  like  a  most  beautiful  gift  to  Hervey. 
He  did  not  know  that  he  had  ever  wanted  tenderness, 
but  as  she  gave  it  whole-heartedly,  so  he  took  it,  drink- 
ing it  into  his  thirsty  soul  like  one  who  had  been  dying 
of  drought. 

It  was  not  until  she  was  leaving  that  Claudia  re- 
membered to  tell  him  what  she  had  overheard  in  the 
village.  "There  will  be  trouble  about  this  murder 
trial  amongst  the  Arabs  if  Haroun  AH  is  discharged," 
she  said.  "Stanley  Murgatroyd  did  tell  me  something, 
and  I  tried  to  warn  my  husband.  But  what  I  heard 
to-day  makes  it  more  imperative.  Do  you  think  I 
ought  to  speak  again?" 

His  face  set  in  a  kind  of  grey  sternness  as  it  always 
did  at  the  mention  of  Everard.  "I  would  rather  you 
did  not,"  he  said  plainly.  "For  I  think  you  are  only 
wasting  your  breath  on  your  own  showing,  and  I  hate 
your  having  any  recrimination  from  him.  But  I  am 
thinking  only  of  you." 

"I  know,"  she  answered  simply.  "There  is  a  way, 
however,  in  which  I  think  I  could  force  his  attention 
— in  which  I  could  frighten  him.  I  did  not  want  to 
use  it,  but  I  left  myself  the  chance  for  safety's  sake." 

She  had  used  a  damning  word,  as  she  knew  by  his 
quick  movement  towards  her,  even  as  they  stood  at 
the  door  waiting  for  the  carriage  which  he  had  sent 
his  servants  to  call. 

"Claudia,  will  you  promise  me  to  come  straight  to 
me  if  you  are  in  any  real  trouble — if  there  is  really 
any  need  of  'safety'?"  he  said,  and  his  voice  shook 
a  little.  "If  you  do  not,  I  think  I  cannot  bear  to  let 
you  go — I  must  keep  you  here  now,  from  this  minute." 

"Oh,  I  promise — I  do  indeed,  Ritchie."     She  did 


312  EXILE 

not  laugh — the  sense  of  his  strength  and  protection 
was  far  too  precious  for  laughter.  "But  I  always  feel 
you  in  the  background  as  my  safeguard  whatever  I 
may  do." 

"I  can't  bear  this  life  for  you!"  he  burst  out  rest- 
lessly, even  as  the  carriage  came  in  view.  "I  feel  as 
if  we  lived  on  a  precipice.  And  this  illness  of  Haines 
hampers  me  a  little.  Remember,  Claudia,  even  if  I 
am  out  here,  you  will  be  safe  in  the  house  in  Reserve. 
My  servants  have  orders.  You  will  remember?" 

"I  will  remember!"  she  said,  and  with  the  word 
pledged  back  to  him  she  sprang  into  the  carriage  and 
was  driven  away. 

She  had  no  opportunity  of  speaking  to  Everard 
that  night,  for  he  dined  out  at  the  American  consul's, 
and  she  hesitated  to  sit  up  and  wait  for  him.  The 
defence  of  her  locked  door  was  all  that  assured  her  of 
safety,  and  even  then  she  was  conscious  of  sleeping 
lightly,  her  sense  still  on  the  alert.  He  did  not  break- 
fast with  her  either,  and  she  learned  that  he  had  gone 
into  Reserve  again  early,  but  the  weight  of  her  new 
knowledge  began  to  lie  heavy  on  her  conscience,  and 
during  the  morning  she  rang  up  Murgatroyd  and 
asked  for  the  date  of  the  murder  trial.  She  was  aware 
that  it  had  been  fixed  for  an  early  date,  for  some  pur- 
pose that  she  did  not  guess,  unless  it  were  a  fear  of 
straining  the  temper  of  the  people  too  long;  but  Mur- 
gatroyd's  answer  struck  her  as  ominous. 

"The  trial  of  Haroun  AH  is  fixed  for  Wednesday," 
was  the  Crown  Prosecutor's  formal  answer.  He  had 
come  to  the  telephone  himself,  but  he  spoke  almost 
as  to  a  stranger. 

"This  next  Wednesday?"  she  persisted. 


EXILE  313 

"Yes."— 

"But  that  is  the  day  after  to-morrow  ?" 

"Yes."— 

Claudia's  heart  beat  a  little  thickly.  It  was  very 
near,  but  there  was  still  time.  She  had  an  engage- 
ment that  afternoon,  but  she  did  not  expect  Everard 
to  return  until  dinner-time,  and  she  felt  that  it  would 
be  intolerable  to  sit  and  wait  for  him.  When  she 
returned,  about  six  o'clock,  she  learned  that  he  had 
just  come  in  and  was  in  his  room,  and  without  waiting 
to  take  off  her  hat  she  sent  the  butler  to  ask  if  he 
would  come  and  speak  to  her  as  soon  as  he  was  at 
liberty.  The  formal  summons  marked  her  attitude, 
and  she  forbore  intentionally  to^go  and  knock  at  his 
door  herself. 

He  had  been  changing  the  clothes  he  had  worn  all 
day,  and  when  he  came  into  the  drawing-room  he 
looked  cool  and  easy  and  well  groomed.  A  satisfac- 
tion with  his  own  personal  appearance  always  acted 
like  a  soothing  cordial  upon  Everard,  and,  despite  any 
anger  he  might  feel  against  her,  he  could  afford  to 
smile  at  Claudia  as  he  sat  down  in  a  lounging  chair 
and  took  a  cigarette  from  the  table  near  by.  Claudia 
moved  her  position  a  trifle,  so  that  the  little  table  with 
the  ash-tray  and  matches  was  between  them.  She 
glanced  at  the  open  jalousies  onto  the  verandah  too, 
as  if  to  be  sure  she  was  not  shut  in  with  him.  But 
both  actions  were  instinctive,  and  she  never  knew  why 
she  had  made  them. 

"You  have  been  out,  I  hear,"  he  said  casually. 
"Calling  anywhere?" 

"I  went  to  the  Bunneys,  and  on  to  the  Club  for  half 
an  hour  to  play  bridge  until  Lady  Stroud  arrived. 


314  EXILE 

They  wanted  a  fourth,  and  I  had  promised  Mrs. 
Bunney." 

"Heard  any  news?" 

"Only  that  Mr.  Haines  is  no  better." 

"Rather  worse,"  corrected  Everard  with  a  smile. 
"I  heard  that  at  luncheon.  He  may  go  at  any  minute." 

She  looked  at  him  with  a  momentary  wonder  in 
her  long-lashed  eyes.  She  had  known  that  he  did  not. 
like  Haines,  but  that  any  human  being  could  so  blat- 
antly please  himself  with  a  man's  possible  death 
seemed  to  her  incredible.  She  remembered  now  that 
he  had  spoken  in  the  same  tone  when  he  first  told  her 
that  Lestoc  had  gone  into  hospital  after  six  months  in 
prison,  and  that  at  the  time  she  had  mechanically  re- 
fused to  understand  it  as  too  hideous  a  thing  to  re- 
alise. Even  now  that  he  had  left  her  no  illusions  with 
regard  to  him  she  changed  the  subject  abruptly. 

"I  heard  to-day  that  Haroun  Ali's  trial  is  fixed  for 
Wednesday,  Edgar,"  she  said  steadily. 

He  nodded.  He  was  looking  down  at  the  nails  of 
his  daintily-kept  hands,  and  fastidiously  smoothed 
away  a  piece  of  skin  at  the  base  of  one  as  he  spoke. 
"Yes,  Wednesday,"  he  said.  "Somers  has  the  matter 
in  hand." 

"Somers?"  she  said  in  some  surprise.  "I  thought 
he  was  not  thought  much  of  as  an  attorney.  Why 
not  Ralston?" 

"Ralston  was  struck  off  the  rolls  last  year,  my  dear. 
You  forget!"  He  showed  those  pointed  teeth  a  little 
in  a  smile  that  did  not  reach  his  eyes. 

Claudia  had  forgotten;  but  she  remembered  now 
that  Ralston  had  not  been  Edgar  Everard's  tool  as 
Somers  was  likely  to  be,  and  surmised  that  he  had 


EXILE  315 

been  "removed"  for  this  reason  when  Everard  first 
became  Acting  Chief  Justice.  The  Bar  at  Exile  con- 
sisted of  a  barrister  and  two  attorneys,  the  Crown 
Prosecutor  being  also  police  magistrate,  assignee  in 
bankruptcy,  and  several  other  things  that  made  his 
co-operation  with  the  Chief  Justice  a  consideration  to 
him.  There  was  no  one  to  oppose  Everard  seriously. 

"I  am  not  asking  whether  you  have  made  up  your 
mind  as  to  Haroun  Ali's  sentence,"  said  Claudia  de- 
liberately, after  a  moment's  thought.  "That  lies  on 
your  own  conscience.  But  I  am  obliged  to  warn  you 
that  the  man  is  firmly  believed  to  have  committed  the 
murder  by  the  Arab  population,  and  that  the  jury  will 
probably  find  him  guilty.  If  you  discharge  him  in 
spite  of  that  there  is  likely  to  be  a  demonstration." 

She  half  expected  one  at  the  present  moment,  rec- 
ognising that  his  temper  was  waiting  for  an  outlet  to 
be  revenged  upon  her,  but  he  took  it  with  a  quietude 
that  was  ominous  in  conjunction  with  the  face  he 
turned  on  her. 

"And  would  you  advise  me  to  go  against  my  'con- 
science' and  hang  him,  whether  I  believe  him  proved 
guilty  or  no,  for  fear  of  angering  the  Arab  popula- 
tion?" he  asked  smoothly.  "Really,  Claudia,  for  a 
woman  as  professedly  moral  as  yourself  the  sugges- 
tion is  infamous!" 

"I  do  not  advise  you  either  in  one  way  or  another," 
she  said  composedly,  and  with  an  indifference  that 
obviously  galled  him.  "But  I  read  the  evidence  my- 
self, after  the  magistrate  in  Banishment  committed 
the  murderer  for  trial,  and  it  is  so  strong  that  an 
acquittal  would  give  an  impression  to  any  unpreju- 
diced mind  that  there  was  miscarriage  of  justice.  All 


316  EXILE 

I  ask  for — indeed,  I  insist — is  that  you  carefully  weigh 
this  in  your  own  mind  before  you  find  means  to  ac- 
quit him.  If  you  decide  to  do  so  whatever  the  result 
to  yourself,  I  hope  that  you  will  forewarn  the  police. 
That  is  all." 

Her  level  voice  seemed  to  carry  some  sort  of  con- 
viction with  it,  for  that  furtive  look  came  back  to  his 
face  and  with  it  the  anger  that  is  born  of  fear. 

"And  where  did  you  hear  all  this,  Claudia?"  he 
asked  with  less  suavity  and  more  impatience.  "This 
solicitude  for  my  safety  is  very  right  and  proper  in  a 
wife,  even  one  who  locks  the  door  on  her  husband!" 
He  glanced  at  her  to  see  if  the  personal  shaft  went 
home,  but  she  took  no  notice.  "But  you  must  have 
some  foundation  for  this  kindly  warning.  Come! 
where  did  you  hear  it?"  he  ended  sharply. 

"You  had  better  ask  Stanley  Murgatroyd,"  she  said 
quietly.  "He  has  heard  it  too." 

He  flung  back  his  shoulders  and  expanded  his  chest 
with  a  mirthless  laugh.  "Oh,  so  you  have  a  common 
source  of  information!"  he  said.  "Well,  it  would  be 
uncivil  to  say  'Mind  your  own  business'  to  a  lady,  but 
let  me  tell  you  that  you  and  Stanley  can  warn  me  to 
the  Day  of  Judgment  before  you'll  either  of  you  in- 
fluence one  word  of  my  judgments.  I  am  not  such  a 
coward  as  you  think  me !" 

She  glanced  at  him  almost  pityingly,  recognising 
the  old  mental  pedestal  on  which  he  always  placed 
himself  though  he  might  be  proved  a  cheat  to  his  face. 
She  knew  that  he  was  alarmed  and  that  he  would  take 
the  coward's  chance  to  secure  himself  if  he  really  saw 
cause  for  fear.  But  he  was  also  too  certain  of  the 
security  of  his  official  position,  and  as  long  as  he  had 


EXILE  317 

the  support  of  the  Government  he  believed  in  no  gen- 
eral risk.  What  he  had  feared  was  Hervey's  power 
to  rouse  the  people  backed  by  his  own  disclosures,  and 
a  stab  in  the  dark  for  personal  reasons,  or  that  he 
would  be  set  upon  at  any  unarmed  moment.  A  gen- 
eral rising  or  demonstration  at  the  court-house  would 
be  a  matter  for  the  police  or  the  troops;  and,  indeed, 
he  hardly  believed  it  possible.  He  was  fatuous  in  his 
sense  of  judicial  power  and  influenced  by  some  un- 
known motive  not  to  hang  Haroun  Ali.  Claudia  rec- 
ognised this,  but  she  had  done  her  best  to  warn  him, 
and  believed  that  she  had  so  far  succeeded  that  he 
would  inform  the  police.  She  could  not  bring  more 
pressure  to  bear  when  it  was  a  question  of  a  man's 
life,  even  though  he  was  blatantly  guilty ;  but  she  had 
another  word  to  say  on  a  different  matter. 

"Wait  a  minute,  Edgar!"  she  said  as  he  half  rose 
and  seemed  inclined  to  regard  the  whole  matter  as  fin- 
ished. "I  want  to  speak  to  you  about  the  Azeopardi 
case  as  well." 

"I  should  not  advise  you  to!  I  have  stood  enough 
interference  for  the  time  being." 

His  tone  was  that  of  the  bully,  but  her  manner  re- 
mained absolutely  unmoved. 

"You  forget,  I  think,  that  you  took  me  into  your 
confidence  without  any  wish  on  my  part.  You  have 
told  me  plainly  that  Azeopardi  is  to  be  removed  out 
of  your  path  because  of  his  share  in  the  silk  trade.  I 
did  not  wish  to  know  this,  certainly,  but  you  insisted 
on  my  understanding  it.  Now  I  have  something  to 
say  on  my  side." 

He  was  listening  now.  His  stealthy  hands  were 
playing  with  each  other  as  they  hung  linked  between 


318  EXILE 

his  knees,  and  his  eyes  were  narrowed  almost  to  two 
slits.  But  Claudia  held  steadily  on. 

"There  was  evidence  of  the  motive  of  this  case 
against  Azeopardi  in  that  letter  you  sent  to  Mr.  Her- 
vey,"  she  said,  and  did  not  flinch  under  his  glinting 
eyes  even  from  the  reference. 

"Yes,  and  that  evidence  is  destroyed !"  he  said  jeer- 
ingly.  "Are  you  going  to  remind  me  of  the  price  I 
paid  for  it?  The  price  of  my  honour?" 

Her  short  upper  lip  lifted  a  little  scornfully,  with- 
out the  smile  that  usually  made  it  beautiful.  "It 
seems  to  me  that  your  honour  was  lost  long  ago — in 
Banishment !"  she  said  significantly.  "We  will  let  that 
pass.  Mr.  Hervey  does  not  hold  any  power  over  you 
with  regard  to  the  Azeopardi  case " 

"No,  and  may  rot  in  hell  before  he  does  again  1"  he 
said  exultantly. 

"Butf  I  do." 

"You?    What  in " 

"I  hold  the  letter." 

"The  letter  was  destroyed!" 

"The  letter  was  not  destroyed." 

"I  burnt  it!"  he  gasped,  staring  at  her  with  horrible 
distended  eyes. 

"Excuse  me,  you  burnt  the  envelope  that  had  held 
it  and  a  copy  that  I  made  in  case  you  should  look  at  it. 
When  you  saw  your  own  handwriting  you  were  in  too 
great  a  hurry.  I  calculated  on  that." 

With  a  sudden  oath,  too  coarse  to  record,  he  lurched 
forward  out  of  the  chair  and  was  almost  upon  her. 
"You  are  lying!  Show  me  the  letter!"  he  almost 
shouted. 

"I  am  not  lying,  and  the  letter  is  in  safer  hands  than 


EXILE  319 

mine  at  the  present  moment,"  she  said,  and  her  tone 
was  very  quiet  compared  to  his,  though  she  had  moved 
swiftly  back  out  of  his  reach. 

"Hervey?"  he  said  with  stiff  lips. 

"No,  not  Mr.  Hervey.  He  has  nothing  more  to 
do  with  it.  I  have  placed  that  letter  with  instructions 
to  examine  it  under  certain  circumstances,  where  you 
cannot  get  at  it.  If  you  adjudicate  on  this  Azeopardi 
case  fairly  it  will  not  be  used  against  you.  But  if 
there  is  any  more  miscarriage  of  justice " 

She  was  interrupted  by  the  crash  of  the  little  table 
between  them.  He  had  sprung  at  her,  blind  with 
rage,  his  hands  groping  wickedly  for  her  throat.  She 
had  not  realised  that  a  man  with  unbridled  passions  is 
worse  than  a  madman,  for  the  insane  have  some  cun- 
ning of  prudence.  For  a  minute  she  was  in  his  grip, 
his  left  arm  holding  her  in  a  vice,  his  right  hand  seek- 
ing for  something  with  which  to  kill.  She  saw  in  a 
flash  how  easy  it  would  be  for  him  to  murder  her  and 
lay  it  on  the  Arab  servants — even  to  commit  a  double 
murder  and  swear  that  he  saved  her  from  violence  and 
that  the  Arab's  death  was  an  accident.  For  a  minute 
they  rocked  and  swung  in  a  silence  that  was  far  more 
dreadful  than  a  shriek,  and  then  with  a  last  desperate 
desire  for  life  she  flung  her  whole  body  forward  in- 
stead of  holding  back,  trusting  to  her  height  to  over- 
weight him.  He  staggered  with  the  unexpected  im- 
petus, caught  his  foot  in  the  fallen  table,  and  fell, 
nearly  dragging  her  with  him. 

The  minute  she  felt  his  grip  relax  Claudia  shook 
herself  free  and,  turning,  darted  across  the  open  space 
through  the  pillars  of  the  dining-room  and  into  Ever- 
ard's  own  bedroom,  swinging  the  door  behind  her. 


320  EXILE 

She  knew  that  he  would  take  a  minute  to  pick  himself 
up  and  follow  her,  and  the  pause  would  probably  sober 
him ;  but  she  was  too  instinct  with  terror  to  depend  on 
that.  All  she  hoped  was  that  he  had  not  seen  which 
room  she  had  entered  and  would  break  into  her  own. 
She  crossed  his  room  and  sprang  out  of  the  open 
jalousies,  then  turning  away  from  her  own  room  ran 
along  the  verandah  that  went  all  round  the  bungalow 
and  dropped  into  the  compound  before  she  reached  the 
servants'  quarters.  She  bent  low,  almost  doubling 
her  body  in  two,  but  still  running,  and  passed  safely 
round  the  angle  of  the  house  to  the  front.  Then  for 
a  moment  she  hesitated.  The  gate  was  wide  open, 
but  between  her  and  it  was  the  wide  sweep  of  the 
compound,  and  away  in  the  house  behind  her  she  heard 
a  door  bang  and  expected  Everard  to  emerge  on  the 
verandah.  He  might  come  round  on  this  side  of  the 
house,  or  he  might  turn  towards  his  own  room.  It 
was  hardly  a  moment  during  which  she  hesitated  be- 
fore with  a  gasp  that  was  a  prayer  she  had  rushed 
out  of  the  gate  and  was  running  fast  down  the  hill, 
still  close  under  the  friendly  wall  of  their  own  com- 
pound. 

She  was  still,  fortunately  for  her,  dressed  for  the 
outside  world,  her  hat  on  her  head;  but  she  had  no 
veil,  and  it  was  impossible  to  run  once  she  reached 
the  broad  road  at  the  foot  of  the  Rocks.  It  was 
growing  dusk,  and  there  were  few  vehicles  about, 
thank  God!  She  did  not  know  that  her  breath  was 
gone  when  she  reached  the  foot  of  the  hill,  or  that  she 
was  bruised  and  shaken;  she  was  only  conscious  that 
she  still  lived,  and  that  she  had  saved  her  life,  some- 
how, for  Richmond  Hervey.  The  tragedy  of  the  past 


EXILE  321 

few  minutes  seemed  almost  impossible  save  for  her 
shuddering  limbs.  No  one  would  have  believed  it 
even  if  she  had  told  them.  Only  she  herself  knew 
that  in  a  breathing  space  her  husband  might  have  been 
a  homicide  and  that  she  had  stood  in  mortal  danger. 
In  all  men's  lives  there  is  possibly  the  one  moment 
when  they  have  the  will,  if  not  the  intent,  to  commit 
murder.  Claudia  Everard  had  seen  it  plainly,  face  to 
face,  that  was  all. 

There  was  a  little  gharry,  or  two-seated  vehicle  for 
hire,  coming  along  the  road  from  the  desert,  possibly 
from  taking  some  of  the  richer  Arabs  back  to  Gol- 
gotha. It  was  not  such  a  carriage  as  Jalbhoy  let  out 
to  the  Europeans  in  Exile  if  their  own  cars  were  un- 
der repair,  but  a  springless  linen-covered  thing  drawn 
by  a  shambling  Somali  pony.  Claudia  hailed  it  before 
her  running  feet  had  faltered  to  a  walk  and  directed 
the  driver  hastily  to  Reserve;  but  even  as  the  vehicle 
turned  round  to  take  her  back  to  the  Cutting  she 
looked  out  with  shrinking  eyes  along  the  way  she  had 
come  to  see  if  she  were  pursued.  Then  she  composed 
herself,  forced  herself  to  lean  back  in  the  little  car- 
riage, and  drew  herself  as. far  as  might  be  out  of 
sight.  It  was  a  desperate  fight,  and  she  was  playing 
the  game  of  life  for  Hervey's  sake. 

She  still  had  a  chiffon  scarf  over  her  shoulders,  but 
it  was  torn — she  supposed  when  she  wrestled  with 
her  husband.  She  took  it  off,  and,  tearing  away  the 
torn  fragments,  used  the  remaining  width  as  a  veil 
to  tie  over  her  hat.  Then  she  breathed  more  freely, 
for  the  scarf  disguised  her  somewhat,  but  as  they 
turned  into  the  Cutting  the  sound  of  the  waking  echoes 
of  the  place  made  her  start  and  glance  behind  again. 


322  EXILE 

There  was  nothing  to  be  seen  from  the  receding  en- 
trance through  which  they  had  driven,  but  far  down 
the  road  she  thought  she  heard  the  horn  of  a  motor — • 
a  Gabriel  horn  that  she  recognised. 

For  a  minute  Mrs.  Everard  sat  forward  gripping 
her  hands,  and  with  her  head  bent.  There  were  some 
camels  in  front  of  her,  and  possibly  another  vehicle, 
but  the  traffic  was  regulated  by  gates  at  either  end, 
only  a  certain  number  being  allowed  through  at  a  time, 
and  the  next  string,  whether  foot  passengers  or 
vehicles,  having  to  wait  until  the  preceding  had  passed 
out  into  the  road  to  Reserve.  Claudia  had  heard  the 
gate  close  behind  her,  but  whether  the  motor  were 
waiting  there  or  had  gone  on  down  the  road  she  could 
not  tell.  As  they  passed  out  of  the  Cutting  and  clat- 
tered down  the  broad  road  to  Reserve  she  calculated 
that  her  only  safety  lay  in  the  maze  of  streets  in  the 
native  quarter  wherein  she  could  hide  herself.  She 
directed  the  gharry  driver  to  put  her  down  at  the  mar- 
ket, on  the  outskirts  of  the  town,  and  paid  him  there, 
seeing  him  drive  away  with  relief.  If  he  were  met  and 
questioned  she  would  be  well  out  of  sight  and  lost  in 
the  bazaars  before  she  could  be  pursued. 

She  knew  the  direction  of  the  street  in  which  Her- 
vey's  house  stood,  though  she  had  only  been  there  that 
once;  but  she  had  never  been  on  foot  in  Reserve  be- 
fore when  by  herself.  Fortunately  she  had  often  gone 
about  with  the  Mission  sisters,  visiting  all  sorts  of 
Arab  houses,  or  she  might  have  been  more  frightened. 
The  Arabs  passing  her  in  the  dusk  turned  and  stared, 
and  a  man  spoke  to  her  in  passing,  probably  thinking 
that  she  might  not  understand.  She  caught  a  few 
words  and  almost  ran.  Then  she  remembered  that 


EXILE  323 

the  sisters  often  went  alone,  and  it  gave  her  courage. 
What  they  could  do  she  would  do — they  for  their  re- 
ligion and  she  for  her  love. 

She  crossed  one  street  and  turned  into  another,  be- 
coming confused  with  the  odd  turnings  and  narrow 
byeways.  She  was  afraid  to  ask  her  way  for  fear  of 
attracting  attention  or  insult,  and  held  steadily  on, 
looking  for  certain  landmarks  to  guide  her.  She 
thought  afterwards  that  she  must  have  missed  the 
street  she  wanted  some  half-dozen  times,  and  have 
walked  for  half  an  hour,  before  she  recognised  it  sud- 
denly and  with  dusty  clothes  and  tired  feet  made  her 
way  to  the  door  in  the  wall. 

It  was  quite  dark  now.  Overhead  the  stars  were 
coming  out,  and  that  strange  scent  of  dried  woods  and 
powdered  spices  was  wafted  to  her  from  the  clothes 
of  some  passing  Mahomedan  lady  come  out  to  take  the 
air.  Claudia  thought  of  the  great  cushioned  divan, 
the  security  of  the  walled-in  roof,  and  the  rest  and 
peace  for  her  weary  limbs.  Not  until  the  door  opened 
and  a  servant  held  a  lamp  high  over  her  head  to  see 
her  face  did  she  feel  safe.  Then  she  heard  an  ex- 
clamation, and  the  man  stood  aside  to  let  her  pass  in, 
closing  the  door  behind  her. 

With  the  sound  of  the  grating  lock  the  stress  and 
strain  of  the  past  few  hours  seemed  to  sweep  over 
Claudia  with  a  horrible  reaction.  She  half-stumbled, 
and  if  the  man  had  not  helped  her  she  could  not  have 
got  up  the  stairs  and  into  the  house.  Then  when  she 
reached  the  room  where  she  had  found  Hervey  she 
sank  down  quietly  on  the  couch  and  looked  round  the 
empty  space  with  grateful  eyes  before  they  closed. 
She  felt  like  a  lost  child  that  has, come  home. 


CHAPTER    XIX 

"Oh,  my  beloved,  so  passionately  wooed, 
In  your  new   freedom,  sweet,   forget  not  this — 
That  he  who  loves  you  gives  you  liberty 
And  joy  transcendant,  when  the  rightful  lover, 
Predestined  by  mysterious  powers  to  be 
Heart  of  your  heart,  the  days  at  length  discover. 

Think  then  a  little,  not  untenderly, 
Of  one  who  walks  where  only  sad  ghosts  hover." 

PHILLIP  BOURKE  MARSTON. 

IT  is  positively  appalling  how  the  calls  mount  up!" 
said  Lady  Stroud.  "One  would  not  think  there 
were  so  many  people  in  Exile.  I  believe  I  have 
twenty  to  pay.  Really,  Mr.  Merryn  must  take  the 
car  and  leave  cards  for  me  instead  of  going  off  to 
polo." 

"Poor  devil!"  said  the  Admiral,  helping  himself 
liberally  to  his  favourite  breakfast  dish  of  curried 
eggs.  "He  hasn't  had  much  chance  to  play  anything 
lately.  Haines'  illness  has  overworked  the  Colonial 
Treasurer  and  myself,  and  we  in  turn  have  over- 
worked our  staffs!"  he  added  with  a  small  grimace. 

"Have  you  heard  how  he  is  this  morning?"  said 
Lady  Stroud  anxiously.  There  was  only  one  "he" 
at  Government  House  since  Mr.  Haines  was  reported 
at  Hervey's  bungalow  with  "condition  serious"  added 
by  the  Port  surgeon. 

324 


EXILE  325 

"Barbara  was  at  the  telephone  this  morning.  Where 
is  the  girl?  She's  late!" 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Lady  Stroud  almost  irritably. 
"She  must  have  heard  the  gong.  It  seems  to  me  that 
people  in  any  trouble  always  show  it  by  being  late  for 
meals!  Oh,  here  she  comes — and  Mr.  Merryn." 

Barbara  and  the  Flag-Lieutenant  entered  at  the 
same  moment,  it  is  true,  but  from  different  sides  of 
the  dining-room,  whose  many  openings  afforded  them 
ample  scope.  They  said  "good-morning"  to  each  other 
formally,  and  it  was  obvious  that  they  had  not  met 
before  to-day.  Merryn,  indeed,  had  been  at  work  since 
sunrise,  and  Miss  Playfair  had  not  been  out  of  the 
bungalow.  She  took  her  seat  quietly,  and  answered 
the  Admiral's  inquiry  for  Mr.  Haines  in  a  lifeless  tone. 

"His  temperature  is  a  point  lower,  Uncle  Jonathan 
— 105  degrees." 

"Come!  that's  something  gained.  How  did  they 
say  he  was?" 

"The  nurse  answered  me.  They  are  afraid  of  col- 
lapse after  the  fever." 

The  girl's  manner  was  quite  composed,  but  her 
young  face  was  almost  haggard.  It  seemed  an  awful 
thing  that  had  happened  to  her,  and  Lady  Stroud's 
resentment  was  disarmed,  though  she  guessed  at  un- 
revealed  motives  for  the  tragedy.  She  had  noticed 
that  Barbara  no  longer  wore  the  gold  filigree  ring  on 
her  left  hand,  even  before  the  news  of  Haines'  seizure, 
and  because  she  had  grown  very  fond  of  the  Colonial 
Secretary  she  had  naturally  laid  the  first  blame  on 
the  girl. 

"Barbara,"  she  had  said  as  soon  as  she  could  get 


326  EXILE 

her  niece  alone,  "had  you  had  any  quarrel  with  Rod- 
ney?" 

"No,  Aunt  Fanny.    We  did  not  quarrel." 

"But  you  no  longer  wear  his  ring!" 

"He  took  it  back!"  said  Barbara  a  little  wildly. 
"He  came  to  the  conclusion  that  we  had  made  a  mis- 
take and  gave  me  back  my  freedom." 

But  Lady  Stroud  was  outraged  in  her  dignity  by 
this  bald  statement  of  fact  minus  extenuating  circum- 
stances. 

"Mr.  Haines  is  an  honourable  man  and  a  gentle- 
man," she  said  decidedly.  "He  would  never  have 
broken  the  engagement  unless  you  had  yourself  wished 
it — apart  from  the  fact  that  he  was  hopelessly  in 
love!"  she  added,  almost  exasperated  by  the  girl's 
silence.  "Did  you  ask  him  to  release  you?" 

"No,  Aunt  Fanny." 

"But  he  knew  you  wished  it?" 

"He  thought  it  was  a  mistake,"  said  Barbara  dog- 
gedly. For  once  her  bald  honesty  seemed  to  have 
deserted  her.  She  would  make  no  confidence. 

"Did  you  wish  it,  Barbara?" 

"I  agreed  with  Mr.  Haines  that  it  was  a  mistake!" 

"But  the  initiative  must  have  come  from  you  in 
the  first  instance!  Unless  you  want  to  lay  the  blame 
on  poor  Rodney  Haines,  I  think  you  had  better  ac- 
knowledge that.  You  told  him  that  you  did  not  care 
for  him  ?  He  found  it  out  ?" 

"I  am  ready  to  take  all  the  blame,  Aunt  Fanny," 
said  Barbara  with  an  effort.  "It  was  my  fault  But 
until  Mr.  Haines  is  better  I  can't  discuss  it." 

She  was  really  very  much  to  be  pitied,  though  Lady 
Stroud  did  not  realise  it.  The  breaking  with  Haines 


EXILE  327 

had  been  a  humiliation  to  her,  because  it  lowered  her 
standard  of  herself.  She  did  not  know  how  she  had 
betrayed  herself  and  Merryn,  but  clearly  she  had  not 
been  "playing  the  game"  as  she  had  promised  that  she 
would,  as  Haines  had  found  the  chink  in  her  armour. 
Immediately  following  on  his  breaking  of  the  engage- 
ment had  come  a  momentary  reaction  in  which  she 
had  felt  herself  free,  with  the  weight  of  all  that  had 
depressed  her  taken  off  her  shoulders — the  demands 
on  her  nature  which  she  could  not  satisfy,  the  grow- 
ing sense  of  disaster  in  a  future  spent  with  Haines, 
the  misery  of  discovering  that  love  was  something 
quite  different,  and  that  it  had  lain,  for  her,  in  an- 
other direction.  Then  for  a  few  hours  she  had  had 
a  shy  sense  of  looking  forward  to  a  real  happiness — 
not  at  once,  not  until  she  had  gone  home  to  England 
again  (no  doubt  to  be  scolded),  but  when  she  met 
Merryn  at  home  perhaps,  in  the  cold  northern  tem- 
perature that  suited  them  both  and  in  the  atmosphere 
that  they  knew  and  understood  best.  Even  Barbara's 
prognostications  of  bliss  were  not  very  romantic;  she 
had  a  vague  idea  that  it  would  be  "awfully  jolly"  to 
meet  Merryn  at  home,  in  the  summer,  and  to  go  about 
together  in  the  country,  where  there  was  plenty  of 
tennis  and  cricket  and  otter-hunting.  I  do  not  think 
she  actually  imagined  him  proposing  to  her  in  a  stickle, 
or  plunged  the  affair  into  several  feet  of  cold  water 
while  they  mutually  watched  a  holt;  but  I  am  quite 
sure  that  she  would  have  taken  the  situation  with 
hearty  good-will  and  accepted  him  in  the  same  breath 
with  which  she  cried  "Heu  Gaze !" 

She  was  not,  anyhow,  allowed  much  time  for  her 
day-dreams,  however  prosaic.    With  the  next  morning 


328  EXILE 

had  come  the  news  of  Haines'  illness,  and  the  shock 
of  it  all  had  left  her  paralysed.  She  could  not  tell 
Lady  Stroud  about  her  broken  engagement  of  her  own 
free  will,  and  only  admitted  it  on  being  questioned. 
While  Haines  lay  between  life  and  death  it  was  im- 
possible to  set  gossip  going  by  announcing  that  the 
marriage  would  not  take  place  after  the  fashion  of  a 
verbal  Morning  Post;  it  seemed  indecent  even  to  think 
of  it.  It  was  horrible  to  Barbara  to  be  sympathised 
with  as  a  broken-hearted  bride-elect  when  her  drawn 
face  was  as  much  due  to  remorse  as  anxiety,  and  her 
native  honesty  made  her  position  well-nigh  intolerable. 
But  she  bore  it  with  set  lips  and  declined  to  say  more 
than  she  had  to  Lady  Stroud.  She  had  never 'men- 
tioned Merry n's  name  in  connection  with  it ;  she  hardly 
spoke  to  him  or  looked  at  him  beyond  civility,  and 
she  never  went  into  the  office  now  to  print  photo- 
graphs. Being  in  love  had  wrought  that  change  in 
her  at  least,  that  she  had  learned  to  defend  her  one 
secret. 

She  had  not  really  faced  the  possibility  of  Haines' 
death  until  the  morning  when  she  learned  the  fact 
that  once  the  fever  left  him  the  doctor  and  nurses 
feared  collapse — learned  it  baldly  through  the  tele- 
phone, where  there  is  little  chance  of  softening  details. 

It  was  a  solution  of  all  difficulties  impossible  even 
to  contemplate.  Barbara's  face  seemed  to  have  altered 
to  Lady  Stroud  as  seen  across  the  breakfast  table; 
it  looked  no  longer  young,  and  she  saw  as  in  a  flash 
what  she  would  be  like  as  a  middle-aged  woman. 

"If  she  were  really  in  love  with  him  one  would 
say  it  was  that,"  said  Lady  Stroud  to  herself.  "It  is 
remorse — it  is  not  love,  but  it  is  terrible  all  the  same. 


EXILE  329 

I  wonder  why  she  should  blame  herself  so  cruelly  just 
because  she  could  not  care  for  him  sufficiently  and  he 
found  it  out!  It  is  not  as  if  there  were  another  man." 

And  she  never  even  glanced  at  the  Flag-Lieutenant, 
eating  hot  breakfast  cake  and  discussing  the  coming 
murder  trial  with  the  Admiral.  Cupid  takes  many 
unlikely  forms,  but  he  never  took  a  more  unlikely  one 
to  Lady  Stroud's  mind  than  the  young  man  with  the 
smooth  burnt  face  and  good  blue  eyes  that  said  noth- 
ing. She  was  really  fond  of  Arthur  Merry n,  who  re- 
minded her  of  her  own  boy,  at  present  somewhere  on 
the  Cape  Station;  but  perhaps  for  this  very  reason 
she  regarded  him  from  the  standpoint  of  a  mother, 
rather  as  a  little  boy  who  must  be  allowed  cricket  bats 
and  guns  to  play  with,  but  who  could  not  be  seriously 
thinking  of  women  from  a  man's  point  of  view. 

"I'm  afraid  he  is  very  unpopular,  sir!"  he  was  say- 
ing to  the  Governor.  "And  if  he  lets  Haroun  AH  off 
it  will  make  him  more  so." 

"Are  you  speaking  of  the  Chief  Justice?"  Lady 
Stroud  chimed  in,  glad  to  get  away  from  the  con- 
templation of  Barbara's  face.  "I  hear  that  Mrs. 
Everard  has  gone  to  Health.  Captain  Bunney  came 
in  last  night  while  you  were  at  Major  Dalkeith's, 
Jonathan,  and  told  me  he  had  seen  Mr.  Everard  at 
the  Club.  It  seems  rather  sudden — I  think  she  must 
have  done  it  to  avoid  the  trial  to-morrow !" 

"Wise  woman !"  said  the  Admiral  drily.  "Have  you 
heard  any  rumours  from  the  Arab  quarters,  Merryn? 
I  will  not  have  a  demonstration." 

"There  may  be  a  crowd  to  hiss  him,  sir." 

"The  police  can  see  to  that.  It  would  be  as  well  to 
warn  them,  perhaps." 


330  EXILE 

There  was  a  line  in  Merryn's  smooth  forehead  as 
he  peeled  an  orange.  Fruit  was  a  luxury,  and  a  con- 
signment from  Bombay  only  appeared  on  the  breakfast 
table  at  Government  House.  "The  police  are  Arabs, 
sir,"  he  reminded  the  Governor.  "And  I  heard  that 
they  sympathise  with  the  bazaars." 

"Oh,  Jonathan!"  said  Lady  Stroud  involuntarily. 
"Wouldn't  it  be  well  to  warn  the  garrison?" 

"We  should  ensure  a  demonstration  if  it  got  about 
that  we  had  done  that !"  said  the  Admiral  drily.  "Make 
these  people  think  you  expect  it,  and  they'll  give  it  to 
you.  I  don't  want  any  street  brawling  and  rifles  going 
off  unintentionally.  If  the  police  wanted  help  they 
could  telephone  the  Marines  and  have  it  in  twenty 
minutes." 

Mr.  Merryn  said  nothing.  In  his  mind  he  wished 
savagely  that  he  were  a  policeman  with  a  street  brawl 
or  anything  else  in  front  of  him.  For  he  felt  that 
there  are  times  when  a  man  wants  to  knock  a  few  heads 
together. 

It  was  a  wretched  day.  No  one  on  the  staff  had  a 
chance  to  play  polo  or  to  get  away  for  a  swim,  and 
there  were  twenty  calls  to  be  worked  off  Lady  Stroud's 
list.  One  would  not  have  thought  there  were  so  many 
houses  to  visit  in  Exile,  as  she  had  said.  In  the  after- 
noon two  men  came  to  call  and  hindered  Lady  Stroud 
from  going  out — Mr.  Yarrow  and  a  brother  officer  in 
the  Marines — and  the  talk  turned  on  the  murder  trial 
again.  "Battle,  murder,  and  sudden  death!"  Merryn 
began  to  feel  as  if  they  were  in  the  air,  and  pricked 
even  his  steady  nerves. 

"I  suppose  there  is  no  hope  of  Haroun  AH  being 
hanged?"  said  Lady  Stroud  as  she  dispensed  tea  to 


EXILE  331 

her  visitors  and  wished  they  would  go.  "Really,  I  feel 
like  a  murderess  myself  demanding  the  poor  man's 
life  like  this!  But  if  he  is  released  they  say  there 
will  be  an  epidemic  of  crime." 

"There  will  be  an  epidemic  of  missiles  for  Mr. 
Everard !"  said  Yarrow  explosively.  "He  simply  can't 
discharge  the  fellow  with  all  the  evidence  against  him. 
It's  an  open  scandal  if  he  does." 

"Yes,"  said  Lady  Stroud  with  a  sigh.  "Only  Mr. 
Everard  has  made  so  many  open  scandals — he  seems 
to  like  them !  And  after  all,  nothing  has  happened  to 
him  so  far." 

"Something  is  going  to  happen  this  time,"  said  Yar- 
row. "You  mark  my  words,  Lady  Stroud ;  if  Everard 
lets  Haroun  AH  off  there  will  be  something  to  do  in 
Exile  at  last !" 

"You  are  making  me  dreadfully  nervous,  Mr.  Yar- 
row— and  you  look  quite  pleased!" 

"Well,  I  shouldn't  be  very  sorry  if  the  Chief  Justice 
had  to  run  for  it !"  said  Yarrow  ingenuously.  "I  don't 
love  him,  Lady  Stroud.  If  it  weren't  for  the  uniform 
I'd  like  to  go  in  the  crowd  and  yell  'Ibn  kelb!'  with 
the  best  of  them." 

"But  he  represents  our  authority — we  must  uphold 
our  own  judge  and  his  decisions,  whatever  they  are." 

"Yes,  unfortunately.  Oh,  it  will  be  all  right,  of 
course.  Let's  hope  that  Everard  will  come  to  his  senses 
in  time  and  hang  the  man.  Have  you  heard  how  Mr. 
Haines  is  to-day?" 

"No  better,  I  am  afraid." 

"Miss  Play  fair  must  be  awfully  cut  up!" 

"Very,"  said  Lady  Stroud  briefly,  and  across  her 
memory — for  Barbara  was  not  present — rose  the  vision 


332  EXILE 

of  that  drawn,  matured  face  at  the  breakfast  table. 
Certainly  Barbara  was  "cut  up"  by  something.  "Won't 
you  have  some  more  tea — and  cake?" 

She  hoped  they  wouldn't,  but  of  course  they  did, 
being  still  young  enough  to  like  cake;  and  then  when 
they  were  really  gone  it  was  too  late  to  do  more  than 
leave  a  few  cards.  The  red  motor  car  wound  up  and 
down  the  crazy  Rocks,  checking  at  the  little  bungalows 
like  cardboard  houses  set  on  the  plateaus,  and  Mr. 
Merryn  got  in  and  out  and  handed  pasteboard  to  the 
Arab  butlers  with  an  impassible  countenance,  while 
his  hostess  not  infrequently  watched  him  from  behind 
the  jalousies. 

"There's  poor  Mr.  Merryn  A.D.C.-ing  as  usual! 
Lady  Stroud  is  not  coming  in.  I  suppose  we  are  next 
on  the  dinner  list !" 

A  strange  custom  this  of  making  a  ticket  of  your 
name  to  pass  the  recipient  up  the  front  stairs  of  colonial 
society.  Lady  Stroud's  cards  were  all  tickets,  "Admit 
Captain  and  Mrs.  So-and-so  to  visiting  terms  at  Gov- 
ernment House,"  the  acquaintance  to  take  rank  accord- 
ing to  His  Majesty's  commission.  Sometimes  she 
thought  of  England,  when  her  husband's  service  should 
be  over  and  they  should  move  in  a  sphere  where  visit- 
ing-cards have  gone  out  of  fashion,  perhaps  because 
there  is  no  society  to  be  admitted.  Of  all  unsalaried 
officials  I  think  a  Colonial  Governor's  wife  serves  the 
Empire  most  uncomplainingly,  and  her  husband's  suc- 
cess very  often  rests  in  her  busy,  quiet  hands,  uphold- 
ing the  British  prestige  indoors  and  out  and  finding  her 
personal  interests  a  forlorn  hope. 

The  red  motor  came  back  to  Government  House  at 
half -past  seven.  The  sun  was  down,  and  the  quick 


EXILE  333 

darkness  was  creeping  up  over  the  Rocks,  but  the  elec- 
tric light  was  not  yet  blossoming  in  the  garrison. 

"Thank  goodness  that's  over!"  said  Lady  Stroud. 
"How  many  did  we  do,  Mr.  Merryn?" 

"Only  ten,  Lady  Stroud." 

"Ten  more,  and  most  at  a  distance!  I  can't  call  in 
Reserve  to-morrow  if  this  dreadful  trial  is  on.  Has  his 
Excellency  come  in  yet,  Mahomed?" 

"Yes,  Excellency.     He  dresses  himself !" 

Lady  Stroud  suppressed  a  smile  and  went  through 
the  drawing-room  to  her  own  room  for  the  cherished 
confidences  of  the  half-hour  before  dinner.  Mr.  Mer- 
ryn walked  into  the  dining-room  for  a  lemon  squash, 
for  his  throat  was  dry  with  the  dust.  As  he  crossed 
the  hall  again  on  his  way  out  to  his  own  quarters  he 
hesitated,  turned  to  his  right,  and  went  quietly  into 
the  compound.  It  needs  the  sight  of  young  eyes  to  see 
a  figure  in  the  dusk  of  Exile,  but  he  had  not  been 
mistaken  in  that  white  gown.  As  he  neared  her  he 
heard  her  humming  a  waltz  tune  under  her  breath, 
and  it  was  significant  that  she  no  longer  sang  to  strict 
rhythm  and  nothing  else. 

"It  might  have  been  ! — If  we  had  known 
All  our  hearts  told  us  in  the  past. 
But  another  came  between  .  .  ." 

"I  cannot  bear  to  see  you  looking  like  this — like  you 
do  every  day,"  he  said  in  a  low,  guarded  tone,  and 
somehow  he  seemed  an  older  man  with  the  very  words. 
"Would  it  make  it  any  easier  for  you  if  I  went  away?" 

"No!"  said  Barbara  under  her  breath.  She  looked 
up  at  him  through  the  dusk  with  horrified  eyes.  "Do 
you  think  it  was  my  fault  ?  I  have  thought  and  thought 


334  EXILE 

and  I  cannot  tell  what  it  was  that  made  him  know — 
what  it  was  I  did!" 

"You  have  told  me  nothing " 

"He  took  back  the  ring  he  had  given  me,"  said 
the  girl,  almost  under  her  breath.  "He  said  he 
knew " 

"There  was  nothing  to  know!" 

"I  think  we  both  played  the  game,"  said  the  girl 
simply.  "I  would  have  told  him  so  if  he  had  given 
me  a  chance.  I  did  say  I  was  sorry — and  he  told  me 
not  to  be—*—" 

"Are  you  sorry?"  he  said  quickly.  He  did  not  mean 
to  be  selfish,  but  it  was  his  right  to  know. 

"No,"  she  answered.  "I  am  not  sorry — I  am  only 
miserable.  About  him,  you  know !" 

"Yes,  I  know,"  said  Merryn.  So  long  as  she  was 
not  sorry — sorry  for  that  brief  minute  in  the  office 
and  their  breathless  revelation — he  did  not  mind  her 
being  miserable.  It  was  the  only  decent  thing  for  her 
to  be  under  the  circumstances. 

"It's  rotten  altogether!"  he  said  comprehensively. 
"His  being  ill  like  this  and — not  being  able  to  do  any- 
thing!" 

Barbara  looked  down  at  her  long  white  hands  in 
the  dusk.  The  third  ringer  of  the  left  hand  felt  odd 
and  bare,  and  she  rubbed  it  mechanically.  She  had 
forgotten  that  it  was  in  the  compound,  almost  on  this 
very  spot,  that  Rodney  Haines  had  knelt  at  her  knee 
and  persuaded  her  past  reason,  for  associations  did  not 
speak  to  her;  but  she  had  never  grown  easy  with  that 
outward  and  visible  sign,  her  engagement  ring,  and 
the  loss  of  it  reminded  her  of  her  discomfort. 


EXILE  335 

"Do  you  think — 'I  ought  to  go  to  him  if — when  he 
gets  better?"  she  said  in  a  troubled  voice. 

"If  he  asks  for  you ?" 

"I'm  afraid  I  ought  to  offer." 

"No,"  said  Merryn  quite  firmly.  "You  might  do 
more  harm  than  good.  If  he  asks  for  you  I  suppose 
it's  only  decent  to  go,  but  if  not — he  doesn't  want  to 
rake  it  all  up.  I  shouldn't  in  his  place." 

She  heaved  a  sigh  of  relief.  "All  right!  I'm  glad 
I  asked  you.  You  always  understand."  They  looked 
at  each  other  solemnly  through  the  growing  dusk  like 
two  children.  "Good-night!"  said  Barbara  softly. 
"I'm  not  coming  to  dinner;  Aunt  Fanny  said  I  needn't. 
There  are  people  dining  here." 

"Good-night !"  he  said  almost  stiffly.  Her  left  hand 
was  free  of  that  damning  pledge;  she  was  free  herself 
to  follow  her  own  inclination.  And  yet — Rodney 
Haines  was  lying  at  Hervey's  bungalow  fighting  for 
his  life.  No,  not  yet.  It  wouldn't  be  "playing  the 
game/'  somehow. 

He  drew  back  for  her  to  pass  him,  tall  and  very 
fair  in  the  dusk.  His  face,  with  its  rather  boyish 
reserve,  had  suddenly  gained  the  purpose  of  a  man's. 
He  was  probably  the  duplicate  of  a  hundred  young 
Englishmen  who  love  the  prototype  of  Barbara  Play- 
fair,  but  for  all  that  he  seemed  to  have  won  an  in- 
dividuality. 

Barbara  raised  her  eyes  as  if  by  instinct  to  the 
heavens,  even  as  she  passed  into  the  bungalow,  and 
though  they  showed  her  nothing  but  the  cloudless 
night  skies  of  Exile,  she  felt  as  if  somewhere  there 
ought  to  be  a  rainbow. 


CHAPTER    XX 

''Eyes  shall  meet  eyes  and  find  no  eyes  between, 

Lips  feed  on  lips,  no  other  lips  to  fear ! 
No  past,  no  future — so  thine  arms  but  screen 

The  present  from  surprise !     Not  there,  'tis  here — 
Not  then,  'tis  now; — back,  memories  that  intrude! 
Make,  Love,  the  universe  one  solitude, 
And,  over  all  the  rest,  oblivion  roll — 

Sense,  quenching  soul." 

BROWNING. 

"D  ICHMOND  HERVEY  sat  in  one  of  the  wide, 
-*-^  airy  rooms  of  his  bungalow,  with  his  broad 
shoulders  propped  against  the  cushions  of  a  lounging 
chair  and  his  head  resting  against  the  padded  back.  It 
was  a  restful  attitude,  chosen  for  patience,  for  he 
had  been  there  for  some  time,  and  expected  to  watch 
an  hour  longer.  Outside  the  wind  was  blowing  freely 
across  the  desert,  but  finding  nothing  to  impede  it  in 
those  naked  miles  of  sand ;  therefore  it  made  no  sound 
until  it  reached  the  telephone  wires  or  the  buildings 
of  Golgotha.  There  it  pressed  round  the  walls,  shat- 
tering silence.  The  jalousies  of  the  upper  room 
where  Hervey  sat  were  half  closed,  but  he  could  hear 
the  wind  in  the  verandah  outside  and  the  soughing  of 
it  in  the  crowns  of  his  date-palms.  On  a  table  near 
at  hand  were  bottles  and  stimulants  and  ice  wrapped 
in  flannel  in  a  bucket.  On  the  bed  lay  something  that 
tossed  and  jabbered  and  held  wordless  conversations 
with  its  own  soul,  because  the  veil  of  the  flesh  was 

336 


EXILE  337 

worn  thin  and  it  was  face  to  face  with  a  bottomless 
gulf. 

Hervey  had  been  at  work  during  a  portion  of  his 
vigil,  for  there  was  a  heap  of  torn  papers  waiting  to 
be  cleared  away  by  his  servants  and  certain  letters 
and  memoranda  tied  into  packets  on  the  table  by  his 
side.  A  residence  of  fifteen  years  leaves  something 
to  be  cleared  up,  even  in  Exile,  and  he  was  getting  his 
affairs  in  order.  He  had  sent  in  his  resignation  al- 
ready. There  was  no  indecision  in  Richmond  Hervey 
for  good  or  ill.  Where  he  set  his  will,  there  his  foot 
followed. 

As  the  sick  man's  mutterings  had  grown  worse 
Hervey  had  laid  aside  his  employment  and  simply 
waited.  There  was  nothing  to  do  but  watch,  the 
nurse  had  told  him,  and  he  could  call  her  if  there 
were  any  marked  change.  As  long  as  the  fever  lasted 
they  did  not  fear.  She  took  an  hour  off  gladly,  leav- 
ing Hervey  as  her  lieutenant,  for  experience  had 
taught  her  that  he  was  to  be  trusted  at  his  post.  The 
night  nurse  was  sleeping,  but  the  day  nurse — the  one 
Hervey  had  relieved — was  thankful  to  go  out  in  the 
garden  even  in  the  hot  noon,  to  walk  a  little  under 
the  behindi  trees.  The  outside  world  was  baking,  but 
there  was  always  the  desert  wind.  It  was  not  like 
the  Fort,  where  the  Rocks  flung  out  furnace  odours 
from  their  sun  smitten  sides. 

Hervey  was  not  looking  at  the  bed,  and  trying  not 
to  listen  to  Haines'  broken  words.  He  had  a  feeling 
that  it  was  indecent  to  stare  at  and  listen  to  his  help- 
lessness. His  thoughts  had  gone  to  Claudia,  and  the 
wonder  as  to  how  soon  they  would  start  for  Europe. 
It  was  like  wandering  in  a  flowerful  garden  to  think 


338  EXILE 

of  her — a  better  garden  than  the  one  below.  She 
made  him  feel  the  cool  scented  wind  and  see  the  rain- 
bow of  the  flowers,  and  follow  the  windings  of  some 
dear  path  that  led  past  springy  lawns  and  the  sun  and 
shadow  of  great  trees.  The  man's  harsh  face  softened, 
and  the  lines  seemed  to  be  wiped  out  of  it  by  some 
gentle  hand,  so  that  he  looked  younger  than  his  years. 
She  had  given  him  such  a  wonderful  thing!  The 
beauty  even  of  a  lesser  love  might  have  made  some- 
thing different  out  of  the  strong  material  of  Hervey's 
nature  had  he  chanced  on  it  years  ago;  but  Claudia 
had  brought  the  dowry  of  a  queen  with  her  and  came 
with  her  heart  full  and  running  over.  It  was  as  if 
she  poured  out  riches  at  his  feet  and  dazzled  him. — 

Suddenly  he  was  aware  of  a  sharper  tone  in  the 
sick  man's  murmurings  and  of  words  disentangling 
themselves  from  the  broken  babble.  Hervey  rose 
more  quietly  than  seemed  possible  with  his  great 
frame  and  went  round  to  the  bedside,  leaning  over 
his  patient  with  a  little  movement  of  protection  that 
was  almost  pathetic.  Haines  had  raised  himself  in 
bed,  and  was  staring  with  his  hollow  eyes  out  of 
cavernous  sockets.  All  the  angles  of  his  face  seemed 
accentuated,  and  a  three  days'  growth  of  beard  altered 
him  almost  out  of  recognition. 

"All  the  little  devils  running  over  the  desert,  Her- 
vey !"  he  said  grasping  at  Hervey's  muscular  arm  with 
his  long  fingers.  He  had  wasted  very  quickly  under 
the  fever,  and  those  musician's  hands  were  like  claws. 
"Running  away  in  lines  and  lines — always  running. 
Don't  let  them  pass  me,  Hervey — Hervey — 'Hervey!" 

His  eyes  wandered  away  from  Hervey's  face  as 
though  the  momentary  recognition  had  died  away, 


EXILE  339 

but  he  still  sought  for  his  friend  in  the  distance  and 
clung  to  his  strength.  Hervey  stood  patiently  lean- 
ing over  him,  letting  those  thin  hands  hold  on  to  the 
reality  of  his  great  muscles. 

"All  right,  old  man!"  he  said  soothingly.  "I  won't 
let  them  pass.  It's  all  right,  Haines !" 

The  clinging  grip  relaxed  after  a  minute,  and  the 
blue  eyes  went  blank  as  the  babble  died  down  to  mere 
words  repeated  over  and  over:  "Rocks — rocks — 
rocks !  Desert — desert — desert !  Thirst — thirst — 
thirst!"  He  lay  back  on  his  pillow  in  a  little  while, 
and  Hervey  drew  the  sheet  over  him,  still  leaning 
above  him  with  that  patient  tenderness,  and  trying  not 
to  hear  the  name  that  came  to  Haines'  lips  with  the 
sound  of  a  wail:  "Barbara! — Barbara! — Oh,  my 
God,  this  pain ! — Barbara !" 

The  nurse,  entering  a  little  later,  found  him  still  by 
the  bedside,  and  with  her  quick  soft  step  came  close 
to  his  side. 

"Has  he  been  restless?"  she  asked  with  that  grave 
restraint  that  marks  the  professional  from  the  flurried 
amateur.  "There  is  a  telephone  message  for  you,  Mr. 
Hervey ;  I  came  up  to  relieve  guard." 

"He  recognised  me  for  a  minute,"  said  Hervey, 
drawing  back  slowly  to  let  her  take  his  place.  "Then 
he  wandered  off  again,  but  he  seems  quieter  as  long* 
as  I  am  near  by." 

"That  is  more  than  he  has  done  as  yet,"  said  the 
nurse.  "I  will  take  his  temperature  again."  But  as 
she  turned  for  the  thermometer  Haines  raised  his 
heavy  lids  and  looked  straight  at  them  both  for  a 
minute. 

"Hervey,  don't  leave  me!"  he  said  faintly.     "You 


340  EXILE 

won't  leave  me  in  the  desert?"  Then  more  slowly,  "I 
can't  get  back !" 

"No, — it's  all  right,  Haines.  I'm  here,  you  know !" 
Hervey  repeated  monotonously. 

Then  there  was  silence,  while  the  nurse  and  Hervey 
stood  still  watching  for  a  moment  in  the  windy  heat 
of  noon  and  the  shade  of  the  sick-room.  Outside  the 
date-palms  soughed  and  swung  together,  and  inside 
their  two  hearts  seemed  to  beat  in  trained  alertness. 
Then  the  nurse  took  up  the  thermometer  and  nodded 
to  Hervey. 

"It's  all  right,"  she  said ;  "I  thought  something  was 
coming — but  it's  all  right.  You  had  better  go  down 
and  answer  the  telephone." 

He  walked  out  of  the  room  and  down  the  echoing 
stairs  with  hushed  feet.  They  were  holding  the  line 
all  this  time,  for  it  was  urgent.  The  Government 
engineer  was  wanted  in  Reserve. 

"Those  damned  earth  tremors  again !"  said  Hervey. 
"I  told  them  not  to  lose  their  heads  for  a  few  rocks 
tumbling  down.  It  was  bound  to  happen."  He  rang 
the  bell  and  ordered  his  car,  going  back  to  the  sick- 
room to  tell  the  nurse  that  he  must  go  to  the  works 
and  should  lunch  in  Reserve.  She  could  ring  him 
up  if  anything — happened. 

"It  is  all  right;  you  must  go,  and  there  is  nothing 
you  can  do  here,"  said  the  nurse  with  a  glance  at  the 
face  on  the  pillows.  "Dr.  Bride  will  be  out  again  this 
afternoon.  I  should  have  some  lunch  before  I  went, 
if  I  were  you,  Mr.  Hervey.  You  look  very  worn." 

She  was  a  plain-spoken  woman,  but  sensible.  He 
did  not  want  to  wait,  but  he  knew  the  necessity  of 
food  taken  regularly  and  sparingly  in  Exile,  and  he 


EXILE  341 

sent  for  a  light  meal  before  the  car  came  round.  By 
the  time  he  reached  Reserve  it  was,  in  consequence, 
past  two  o'clock,  and  then  his  work  absorbed  him  for 
an  hour  or  two.  At  four  he  was  free  and  the  staff 
at  the  works  were  well  in  hand  again,  the  human 
units  going  with  all  the  whir  of  machinery  under 
the  steam-power  of  Hervey's  will.  He  got  into  his 
car  to  drive  down  to  his  house  for  tea  and  to  look  for 
some  memoranda  he  had  left  there,  for  there  had  been 
no  telephone  message  from  his  bungalow  summoning 
him  back  to  Golgotha. 

It  had  been  a  disheartening  day,  and  he  felt  jaded 
and  tired  both  with  the  strain  of  his  friend's  illness 
and  the  timid  fear  of  responsibility  amongst  his  work- 
men. The  whip-lash  of  free  speech  had  driven  that 
unwilling  team  to  the  collar,  but  Hervey's  mouth  was 
set  in  its  grimmest  lines  as  he  entered  the  door  of  his 
own  house.  There,  however,  the  sunshine  suddenly 
met  him  and  the  strain  ended,  for  his  Arab  servants, 
bowing  low,  brought  him  a  just-breathed  message. 

It  was  only  two  words  that  altered  the  day — "Al 
Siyyidha!"  But  his  heart  leapt  and  he  felt  as  if  the 
burden  slipped  from  his  shoulders.  She  was  here, 
and  he  did  not  ask  how  or  why — Al  Siyyidha,  'the 
Lady  of  high  rank,'  for  there  was  only  one  lady  for 
whom  his  servants  would  use  the  more  ceremonious 
term  instead  of  the  usual  "Sitt,"  unless  it  were  the 
Governor's  wife.  He  walked  up  the  stairs  with  that 
light  tread  of  his,  and  was  in  her  presence  before  she 
was  aware,  for  she  did  not  turn  on  the  instant,  as 
she  would  have  done  had  she  heard  him. 

Claudia  was  standing  on  the  further  side  of  the 
large  room  that  opened  on  to  the  stairs  and  the  well- 


342  EXILE 

space  of  the  centre  of  the  house,  very  much  where  he 
had  stood  on  the  night  when  she  had  come  to  him  in 
Reserve.  She  was,  in  fact,  near  the  bookcase  as  he 
had  been,  turning  over  the  leaves  of  a  book  as  if  in 
imitation  of  his  occupation  on  that  occasion  and  hum- 
ming a  song  to  herself  happily  as  she  read.  Her  atti- 
tude was  so  natural,  so  much  at  home,  that  he  had 
the  full  pleasure  a  man  may  feel  at  seeing  the  woman 
he  loves  in  his  own  house  as  if  her  place  were  there. 
Hervey  stood  still  a  moment  and  watched  her.  He 
felt  suddenly  breathless  with  his  own  piercing  joy — 
a  joy  as  sharp  as  sorrow.  He  remembered  those  ex- 
cursions of  his  into  the  narrower  byeways  of  passion, 
and  shrank  from  the  sordid  memory.  In  the  light 
of  this  great  thing  that  had  come  to  him  those  mis- 
spent hours  seemed  a  slur  upon  it,  even  though  he  had 
hardly  dignified  them  by  the  name  of  Love.  He  had 
called  them  experiments,  he  remembered,  and  excused 
them  on  the  vicious  plea  of  idleness.  As  he  looked  at 
Claudia  he  marvelled  at  the  meanness  of  his  own 
tastes. 

And  then  she  turned,  the  book  still  in  her  hands, 
and  saw  him. 

She  came  up  to  him  laughing,  tossing  the  book  on 
to  the  divan  as  she  passed,  and  put  her  hands  up 
on  his  shoulders  with  a  caressing  movement  to  which 
he  was  beginning  to  look  forward  hungrily.  "I  have 
come  home!"  she  said.  "No  wonder  you  look  aston- 
ished ;  but  I  would  not  telephone,  because  I  knew  you 
were  with  Mr.  Haines,  and  I  did  not  want  to  bring 
you  out." 

"How  long  have  you  been  here?"  he  asked  quietly, 


EXILE  343 

his  arms  round  her  waist,  and  his  hard  cheek  against 
her  soft  one. 

"Oh,  for  the  past  week,"  she  answered  with  a  cer- 
tain carelessness  as  if  the  life  that  lay  behind  her 
final  step  in  coming  to  him  hardly  mattered.  "I  have 
come  for  good,  Ritchie!" 

"I  hope  so — it  seems  to  me  very  good !" 

"I  don't  know "  (a  trace  of  anxiety  clouded 

the  brightness  of  her  face).  "But  there  was  nothing 
else  to  do.  I  have  nothing  with  me;  I  think  I  shall 
have  to  disguise  myself  in  a  kameese  and  go  out  to 
buy  some  clothes." 

"If  you  make  a  list  you  will  find  that  the  butler  can 
get  you  most  things  that  you  want.  I  have  trained 
him.  Have  they  attended  to  you  properly?" 

"Oh,  beautifully.  And  I  found  everything  I 
wanted  from  the  first  night,  spread  upon  my  dressing- 
table,  even  to  a  sponge !" 

He  drew  her  across  the  room  to  the  tea-table,  which 
was  already  waiting,  and  sat  down  beside  her.  "Tell 
me  how  it  all  happened!"  he  said  gently. 

"There  is  nothing  to  tell.  I  warned — Edgar  Ever- 
ard"  (it  was  noticeable  that  she  no  longer  said  "my 
husband") — "that  if  he  gave  another  unjust  judg- 
ment in  the  Azeopardi  case  I  should  use  the  letter 
against  him — have  it  published  if  necessary." 

"What  letter?" 

"The  letter  he  wrote  to  you."  She  flushed  with  a 
sudden  memory  and  hid  her  face  against  his  shoulder. 
"He  thought  it  was  destroyed,  but  I  had  really  kept  it 
as  a  hold  over  him  in  case  he  persisted  in  misusing 
his  power  like  this.  It  seems  to  me  appalling,"  she 
added  more  slowly,  "that  our  judicial  system  can  place 


344  EXILE 

such  power  in  the  hands  of  any  one  man!  If  he  abuses 
it  he  cannot  even  be  prosecuted  by  a  subject;  it  is  only 
the  Colonial  Office  which  can  start  inquiries,  or  the 
High  Court  which  could  arraign  him,  and  he  knows 
that  that  is  a  costly  and  lengthy  proceeding.  He  is  not 
really  afraid  of  any  official  inquiry  about  such  a  little 
colony  as  Exile  so  long  as  he  can  accomplish  his  de- 
sign first  and  make  a  fortune  out  of  the  silk  trade. 
The  one  thing  he  was  afraid  of  was  the  publication 
of  that  letter,  because  of  the  native  feeling  it  would 
stir  up  against  him,  and  the  chance  of  violence." 

"And  yet  they  say  that  he  will  discharge  Haroun 
AH  when  the  trial  ends,"  Hervey  pondered ;  "and  run 
the  risk  of  a  demonstration." 

"Because  he  will  not  believe  that  the  Arabs  are 
greatly  interested  in  the  matter,  or  that  he  is  not  safe 
in  his  official  capacity.  He  depends  on  the  Govern- 
ment being  behind  him,  and  thinks  that  the  police  can 
keep  order.  But  I  hope  I  frightened  him  a  little.  He 
knows,  anyhow,  that  the  letter  is  still  in  existence,  and 
that  I  shall  not  hesitate  to  use  it." 

"Was  he  rough  to  you?"  he  asked  quickly.  "What 
did  he  do  when  you  told  him?"  No  one  but  a  lover 
would  have  grasped,  with  quickened  senses,  some  peril 
near  her  in  the  situation,  she  had  spoken  so  quietly. 

"Yes,  he  was — rough,"  she  said  deliberately,  but  she 
turned  her  face  away  a  little,  as  if  to  avoid  any  be- 
trayal. "He  worked  himself  into  a  passion  and  talked 
wildly.  That  is  all — except  that  I  thought  it  better  tQ 
come  here." 

"It  was  much  better" — he  was  not  satisfied,  and 
she  knew  it,  but  she  did  not  want  to  startle  him  even 
though  she  had  escaped  bodily  violence — "but  I  shall 


EXILE  345 

be  better  pleased  when  I  take  you  to  Europe.  Does 
he  know  where  you  are?" 

"Oh,  no.  I  simply — came  away."  She  thought  of 
that  flight  down  the  road,  the  springless  gharry,  the 
horror  of  pursuit,  and  her  hurried  walk  on  foot 
through  the  town;  but  she  thrust  the  thoughts  away 
from  her  lest  the  shadow  of  it  should  touch  him 
through  their  responsive  minds.  "It  is  over  now.  Let 
us  talk  of  something  else.  Let  me  make  tea  for  you. 
I  told  the  servants  I  would  make  it  myself.  I  am  very 
conceited  over  making  tea;  it  is  the  one  thing  that  I 
think  I  do  better  than  any  one  else.  Every  one  has 
one  thing  that  they  think  they  do  to  perfection,  you 
know.  What  is  yours  ?" 

He  laughed,  stretching  himself  luxuriously  in  his 
easy  chair.  'Tacking  up  a  parcel,  I  think,"  he  said, 
as  she  carefully  measured  the  tea  and  wanned  the 
teapot.  "Most  people  get  the  ends  so  untidy.  I  am 
quite  professional!  I  believe  I  was  meant  to  be  a 
grocer." 

"Lady  Stroud  once  confided  to  me  that  she  laid  a 
fire  better  than  any  housemaid,  and  when  she  was  in 
England  she  sometimes  longed  to  do  it  just  to  show 
them  how.  I  think  if  I  felt  I  was  a  genius  in  laying 
fires  that  I  should  simply  have  to  follow  my  bent, 
whatever  the  servants  thought!" 

"I  am  not  sure  that  I  admit  your  genius  over  the 
tea-making!"  Hervey  teased  her.  "It  won't  be  strong 
enough  for  me.  You  only  put  in  three  spoonfuls!" 

"One  for  you,  one  for  me,  and  one  for  the  teapot. 
The  real  art  lies  in  pouring  a  little  boiling  water  on 
it  first  to  get  the  goodness  out  of  the  tea  and  filling 


346  EXILE 

up  afterwards.  Most  people  simply  flood  the  teapot 
and  pour  off  the  washy  surface  into  the  cups !" 

"I  see  your  conceit  is  not  to  be  shaken.  You  speak 
like  one  of  those  circulars  instructing  one  how  to  make 
sparklets,  or  toast  bread  on  an  iron  plate  that  never 
gets  hot !" 

"I  had  to  be  a  little  academic,  or  I  should  not  have 
impressed  you.  There  is  your  tea — don't  dare  to  say 
you  don't  like  it." 

"I  don't  dare!"  said  Hervey  meekly  as  he  stirred 
it.  "But  I  think  you  might  have  put  in  some  sugar. 
Nothing  gives  me  such  a  shock  to  my  system  as  a 
mouthful  of  sour  tea!" 

"Oh,  I  beg  your  pardon!  I  don't  take  it  myself, 
and  so  I  never  thought  you  could  be  so  nasty."  She 
dropped  a  lump  in  with  dainty  fingers,  and  then  like 
a  child  put  a  small  piece  in  her  own  mouth  appre- 
ciatively. 

"Claudia,  you  will  spoil  your  teeth !" 

"Never  mind — I  daresay  I  can  still  bite  you  if  you 
give  me  cause." 

"Oh,  darling,  with  the  eyes  serene, 

And  with  the  teeth  so  white, 
The  vow  was  proper  to  the  scene — 
Superfluous  was  the  bite !" 

quoted  Hervey  lazily.  "I  shall  buy  a  little  muzzle 
and  take  you  out  on  a  chain.  And  every  one  will  pity 
me  very  much.  They  will  say,  'There  goes  that  poor 
man  with  the  biting  wife;  there's  a  new  bit  of  him 
gone  every  day' ! ! !" 

"Well,  there's  enough  of  you  to  last  me  for  a  good 
many  meals!"  said  Claudia  indignantly.  "You  needn't 


EXILE  347 

grudge  me  a  few  chops!"  Then  as  they  broke  into 
mutual  laughter — "I  think  we  must  be  very  happy," 
she  said.  "We  talk  so  much  nonsense." 

"I  know  I  am  happy,"  he  said,  leaning  forward  to 
lay  his  hand  tenderly  on  her  dull  gold  hair.  "My 
only  fear  is  lest  you  should  regret  it!" 

"Why  should  I  regret  it?"  she  answered  with  a  kind 
of  still  brightness  even  in  her  gravity.  "I  do  not  re- 
gard marriage  as  a  sacred  bond  unless  it  has  the  sanc- 
tion of  one's  own  soul.  People  who  prate  of  its 
morality  are  only  conventional  cowards.  Where  I 
made  a  blunder  was  in  marrying  too  young,  but  for 
years  I  made  the  best  of  a  very  bad  bargain.'* 

"I  wonder  that  you  did  not  get  a  separation !" 

"It  would  have  been  more  decent.  But  I  knew  very 
little  of  the  man  I  married,  by  his  own  desire.  He 
wanted  a  figure-head,  in  some  sort  a  companion,  and 
I  did  my  best  to  fulfil  both  duties.  As  to  the  rest  of 
his  life,  I  never  speculated  about  it  until  he  abso- 
lutely forced  me  to  face  it.  I  should  not  even  take 
the  trouble  to  defend  myself  like  this  to  any  one 

else "  She  broke  off  with  a  movement  of  the  head 

that  was  superb. 

But  being  a  man  he  was  greedier  for  her  than  she 
was  for  herself.  "If  I  heard  criticism  of  you  I  think 
I  should  kill  some  one!"  he  said  simply.  "Do  you 
think  he  will  get  a  divorce?" 

"I  can't  say.  His  character  has  so  altered  to  me 
since  he  stole  into  his  own  house  like  a  thief  that  night 
that  I  am  quite  at  a  loss  to  say  what  he  will  do.  But 
even  if  I  am  never  legally  your  wife,  Richmond,  I 
should  not  regret  coming  to  you,  unless  it  really  did 
you  harm;  but  I  do  not  see  how  it  could "  She 


348  EXILE 

paused  with  a  sudden  questioning  glance  of  her  up- 
raised eyes.  They  were  reddish  purple  in  the  subdued 
light,  and  the  dense  lashes  made  them  darker  still. 

Hervey  took  her  face  between  his  hands  and  kissed 
the  curved  lips  with  slow  pressure.  "You  are  never 
to  say  that  to  me  again,"  he  said.  "And  never  to 
think  it.  You  cannot  bring  me  anything  but  good 
so  long  as  you  love  me.  It  is  only  that  I  cannot  bear 
to  think  of  a  rough  wind  blowing  on  you." 

"I  shall  never  feel  the  wind,  even  of  adverse  criti- 
cism— while  you  are  with  me.  I  feel  very  deeply 
about  marriage  and  the  fallacy  of  the  legal  tie;  that 
is  why  I  tried  to  warn  Barbara  Playfair.  It  is  not  a 
thing  to  part  with  lightly,  because  it  is  a  kind  of  com- 
pact entered  into  between  men  and  women.  But  it 
seems  to  me  that  it  is  more  one's  commercial  honour 
that  is  involved  than  any  religious  sentiment.  If 
either  party  does  not  fulfil  their  obligations  the  com- 
pact ought  to  be  null  and  void.  And  apart  from  that, 
I  think  that  a  great  love  justifies  the  breaking  of  a 
loveless  tie." 

"That's  the  sweetest  heresy  I  ever  heard !"  said 
Hervey  fondly. 

"Yes,  but  don't  misunderstand  me;  had  I  been 
normally  married,  and  had  then  found  that  my  feeling 
for  you  was  overwhelming — a  thing  out  of  all  propor- 
tion to  marriage  or  other  ties — 1  should  have  gone  to 
my  husband  honestly  and  told  him  that  I  was  going 
away,  even  if  you  had  not  loved  me  in  return.  I 
should  not  have  gone  to  you  in  that  case ;  but  I  would 
sooner  earn  my  living  by  any  labour  than  live  as  one 
man's  wife  with  my  whole  body  and  soul  belonging  to 
another.  As  it  was,  of  course,  I  was  merely  living 


EXILE  349 

under  Edgar  Everard's  roof  in  the  position  of  a  house- 
keeper." 

"Supposing  there  had  been  children?" 

"It  would  have  made  no  difference,  provided  they 
were  another  man's.  Under  no  circumstances  could  I 
abandon  a  child  of  yours — it  would  be  part  of  our 
very  love  for  each  other.  But  I  should  only  have  the 
animal  instinct  of  maternity  for  the  children  I  bore 
to  another  man,  and  it  would  not  hold  me  long." 

Her  words  started  the  side  issue  in  Hervey's  mind. 
"Pray  God  we  do  have  children !"  he  said.  "It  would 
be  a  great  joy  to  me.  I  believe  I'm  really  rather  do- 
mestic, Claudia." 

Her  face  changed  from  its  earnestness  to  the  former 
laughter.  "I  will  let  you  order  the  dinners  if  you 
like,"  she  said,  "and  scold  the  servants.  I  think  the 
mere  sight  of  you  with  a  duster  in  your  hand  would 
awe  the  pertest  housemaid  to  do  her  duty.  You  are 
so  very  impressive !" 

She  had  purposely  refrained  from  asking  him  after 
Rodney  Haines,  seeing  the  lines  in  his  face  from 
watching  and  nursing;  but  before  he  left  he  told  her 
of  those  discouraging  vigils. 

"Bride  thinks  he  won't  pull  through,"  he  said 
bluntly.  "I  do.  Poor  devil!  I  expect  he'll  curse  me 
for  a  bit  too,  if  I  bring  him  back  to  life." 

"You  ought  to  be  getting  back  to  him,"  said 
Claudia,  with  perfect  understanding.  "Do  you  know 
that  it  is  nearly  seven  o'clock?  It  seems  a  minute 
since  you  came,  doesn't  it?" 

"I  wish  I  could  have  stayed " 

"We  shall  have  all  our  lives  for  you  to  stay!"  she 
said  in  a  low  voice,  her  head  resting  against  his 


350  EXILE 

breast  as  they  stood  at  the  head  of  the  stairs.  "I 
don't  think  we  should  either  of  us  be  really  happy  if 
you  didn't  go  back  now.  You  will  come  to-morrow  ?" 

"About  the  same  time.  I  have  had  to  give  orders 
to  close  the  Cutting,  but  I  hope  it  will  be  open  again 
in  a  day  or  so,  and  it's  not  much  further  from  Gol- 
gotha to  drive  the  old  road.  Claudia,  I  lay  no  restric- 
tion on  you  whatever,  but  I  would  rather  think  that 
you  were  not  going  out.  Can  you  live  like  an  Arab 
lady  for  me  and  think  that  I  am  your  lord  and  have 
shut  you  off  from  the  world?" 

"I  will  promise  not  to  go  out,  unless  it  were  for 
some  extraordinary  cause,"  she  said  readily.  "I  will 
make  a  list  of  purchases  for  your  servants,  as  you  sug- 
gest. I  can  get  all  the  air  I  want  on  the  roof." 

"Good-night  then,  my  darling!" 

She  stood  at  the  head  of  the  stairs  to  watch  him 
out  of  her  sight — a  tall  white  figure  with  a  face  most 
beautiful,  and  tender  with  love.  At  the  foot  of  the 
stairs  he  turned  again  to  look  at  her,  and  it  seemed 
to  him  that  he  stood  in  a  gulf  of  darkness  while  her 
figure  was  set  far  above  him  in  light,  for  the  lamps 
had  been  lit  in  the  room  above  but  not  in  the  lower 
portion  of  the  house.  Long  after  his  car  was  clear 
of  Reserve  and  its  parti-coloured  streets  he  still  saw 
Claudia  standing,  at  the  back  of  his  brain,  with  the 
rain  of  light  upon  her. 


CHAPTER   XXI 

"He  sitteth  on  a  throne,  and  hideously 
Playeth   at  judgment!  .  .  . 

.  .  .  Sceptred,  thron'd,  and  crown'd, 
The  foul  judging  the  foul,  and  sitting  grim 
Laughs. 

With  a  voice  of  most  exceeding  peace 
The  Lord  said  'Look  no  more !' " 

ROBERT  BUCHANAN. 

MR.  YARROW  was  orderly  officer  on  the  great 
day  of  the  murder  trial,  to  his  very  great  dis- 
gust, for  he  would  have  liked  to  go  into  the  court- 
house and  hear  the  end  of  it,  however  much  it  might 
inflame  him  when  the  Chief  Justice  mishandled  the 
evidence.  The  proceedings  had  lasted  over  a  week, 
and  the  assessors,  isolated  during  that  period,  had 
been  bewildered  and  badgered  by  the  Chief  Justice 
when  out  of  court  until  they  were  almost  uncertain 
themselves  as  to  the  meaning  of  premeditation.  Ever- 
ard  had  acted  throughout  more  as  a  counsel  for  the 
defence  than  the  judge,  and  all  the  civil  population 
had  seethed  with  comment.  Incident  is  so  sparse  in 
Exile  that  even  the  judicial  scandals  of  the  colony 
were  a  welcome  diversion.  At  home,  or  even  in  a 
larger  community,  Yarrow  would  never  have  dreamed 
of  spending  an  hour  in  a  hot  and  confined  space 
crowded  with  Arabs,  however  emphatic  his  opinions 
on  the  judgments  might  be.  They  would  always  be 


352  EXILE 

emphatic  because  he  was  young  and  of  a  sanguine 
temperament.  But  he  would  have  contented  himself 
with  round  denunciation  of  Everard  and  his  methods 
and  gone  off  to  more  natural  diversions. 

As  it  was,  he  felt  it  an  injury  when  one  man  after 
another  got  a  chance  to  go  into  Reserve  on  the  last 
day  of  the  trial  and  "see  if  there  were  a  chance  of  a 
good  old  row."  He  would  have  liked  a  fight — in 
mufti, — and  had  he  happened  to  be  on  the  spot  and 
there  were  an  uproar,  and  "I  was  not  in  uniform,  sir! 
I  had  to  look  out  for  myself  when  the  beggars  got 
loose!" — who  could  blame  him?  He  felt,  like  Her- 
vey,  that  he  wanted  to  use  his  strength.  Five-and- 
twenty  bottled  up  in  stations  like  Exile  is  apt  to  find 
an  outlet  on  such  occasions  as  St.  Patrick's  Day  and 
to  wear  newly-healed  scars  on  its  forehead. 

Mr.  Yarrow  languished  at  his  duty,  while  his 
brother  officers  got  leave  and  left  the  mess  a  worse 
desert  than  the  one  beyond  the  Rocks.  The  garrison 
at  Exile  was  a  small  one,  the  natural  defences  being 
almost  impregnable ;  besides  the  Marine  Artillery  and 
the  Marine  Light  Infantry  there  was  only  a  detach- 
ment of  the  Camel  Corps.  Colonel  Darner  was  still 
laid  up  with  his  cocktail  fever,  and  the  only  other  offi- 
cer left  in  the  Marine  lines  besides  Mr.  Yarrow  was 
the  senior  captain,  who  was  suffering  from  a  genuine 
attack  of  dysentery,  and  was  more  concerned  with  the 
advisability  of  going  into  hospital  than  of  providing 
company  for  his  subaltern.  He  was  not  a  cheerful 
companion,  and  he  did  not  even  want  to  discuss  the 
last  ponies  that  the  Remount  Department  had  fur- 
nished for  the  Mounted  Infantry. 

By  two  o'clock  Mr.  Yarrow  was  reduced  to  wishing 


EXILE  353 

for  an  earthquake  to  break  the  hot  monotony  of  the 
long  bungalow  and  the  sandy  drilling  ground,  for  his 
blood  was  quick  in  his  veins;  at  a  quarter-past  he  al- 
most prayed  for  something  to  happen;  and  at  half- 
past  it  came — a  quick  telephone  message  from  the 
police  barracks  at  Reserve  that  they  wanted  help,  and 
following  hard  upon  it  an  order  from  the  Governor 
to  send  some  of  the  Marines  to  guard  the  court-house. 
There  was  a  disturbance  in  the  bazaars,  and  a  crowd 
was  rushing  into  the  road  leading  to  the  Cutting  to 
mob  the  Chief  Justice.  No  more  details  were  forth- 
coming, but  Yarrow's  heart  leapt.  Everard  must  have 
discharged  Haroun  Ali,  whatever  verdict  the  jury 
had  found,  and  the  populace,  knowing  him  guilty,  was 
vowing  vengeance  on  the  Chief  Justice. 

"Serve  him  right!"  muttered  Yarrow,  as  he  gave 
the  order  for  the  men  to  fall  in.  "And  we've  got 
to  get  the  cur  out  of  the  mess !" 

Nevertheless  it  was  action,  and  he  welcomed  it, 
even  in  the  midday  heat  of  Exile.  The  men  swung 
down  the  road  to  the  Cutting,  raising  a  cloud  of  dust, 
and  seeming  a  curious  match  for  the  Rocks  in  their 
khaki.  At  this  hour  the  shadowless  sides  of  the  vol- 
canic range  were  much  of  the  same  toneless  brown, 
and  the  moving  mass  of  men  might  have  been  a  de- 
tached portion  endowed  with  motion. 

At  the  Cutting  came  a  sudden  check.  The  passage 
had  been  closed  to  the  public  within  the  last  hour,  a 
notice  to  this  effect  having  been  posted  early  in  the 
morning,  of  which  Yarrow  had  not  heard.  There  was 
a  guard  at  the  gates,  but  the  Cutting  was  not  already 
blocked  with  men  at  work,  and  if  Lieutenant  Yarrow 
exerted  his  authority  it  was  possible  that  he  and  his 


354  EXILE 

men  might  be  allowed  to  go  through  under  the  cir- 
cumstances. For  a  minute  the  young  officer  hesitated ; 
his  own  orders  had  been  to  go  to  Reserve,  but  he  had 
not  been  told  anything  about  the  Cutting  being  closed, 
or  that  he  was  to  take  the  shortest  route  at  all  costs. 
It  lay  at  the  back  of  his  mind  that  they  were  going 
to  the  rescue  of  that  brute  Everard.  Serve  him  right 
if  the  crowd  did  handle  him  roughly!  But  he  would 
look  after  his  own  skin — trust  him !  And  they  would 
arrive  in  plenty  of  time. 

He  had  halted  his  men  where  the  Cutting  lay  on 
his  right  and  the  old  road  branched  to  the  left.  "We 
shall  have  to  go  round,"  he  said  to  the  sergeant,  and 
then  a  brief  order:  "Company!  'shun — 'left  incline — 
quick  march!"  and  the  column  went  swinging  round 
the  base  of  the  Rocks.  It  was  twenty  minutes'  extra, 
that  was  all — twenty  minutes'  more  marching  on  the 
blistering  road  for  the  hot  Marines — twenty  minutes 
too  late.  But  Mr.  Yarrow's  action  was  never  called 
in  question,  nor  was  he  blamed,  since  no  one  knew 
of  that  momentary  wavering  of  the  guard  at  the  Cut- 
ting gates,  and  that  he  himself  never  quite  faced  the 
thought  at  the  back  of  his  mind.  The  Cutting  was 
unfortunately  closed  for  repairs,  and  the  Marines  had 
had  to  go  the  longer  way  round.  The  thing  was  a 
simple  statement  and  unquestioned. 

As  the  men  marched  into  Reserve  there  was  a  stir 
in  the  air.  It  was  not  movement  so  much  as  the  sense 
of  movement — a  something  breaking  the  ordinary 
drone  of  midday  life  and  traffic.  Instinctively  the  col- 
umn quickened  the  pace,  before  the  order  passed  the 
officer's  lips.  They  were  upon  the  straggling  boundary 
of  the  city,  a  good  half-mile  yet  from  the  centre  of 


EXILE  355 

the  town  or  from  the  court-house.  But  as  they  swung 
along  the  broad,  hot  road  outside  the  Arab  streets  the 
vibration  in  the  air  increased  until  it  was  an  absolute 
sound,  a  murmur  of  multitudes  moving.  The  easy 
swip-swop  of  the  soldiers'  feet  changed  from  the  back 
and  forwards  creaking  of  boots  into  the  impatience  of 
the  feet  inside  them.  They  would  have  run  had  there 
been  the  least  encouragement,  so  contagious  is  excite- 
ment, though  it  was  only  the  desire  to  be  in  for  the 
scrum — to  see  the  finish — to  find  out  -what  was  hap- 
pening. 

"Get  on  there,  men.  Quick  march !"  The  body  be- 
gan to  move  as  one  unit^  straight  on  to  the  goal. 

The  multitudinous  hum  of  life  that  drew  them  on 
had  not  manifested  itself  until  just  after  two  o'clock 
when  the  court  rose.  It  had  been  a  protracted  trial, 
and  when  the  jury  retired  to  consider  their  verdict 
the  judge  maintained  that  as  premeditation  had  not 
been  proved  the  prisoner  could  not  be  found  guilty 
of  murder.  Now  the  code  of  Exile  says  that  "Homi- 
cide committed  wilfully  is  manslaughter.  Manslaugh- 
ter committed  with  premeditation  or  by  lying  in  wait 
is  murder,"  and  goes  on  to  explain  in  what  premedita- 
tion consists  in  phrases  whose  legal  indirectness  is 
enough  to  confuse  a  Solomon.  There  were  as  many 
opinions  in  Exile  about  premeditation  as  there  are  in 
religious  circles  about  predestination,  and  of  this  Ever- 
ard  had  been  clever  enough  to  take  advantage.  Seven 
out  of  the  eight  assessors  disagreed  with  him,  the 
eighth  being  undecided,  but  the  verdict  was  "Guilty 
of  Murder." 

Then  the  Chief  Justice  began  to  speak.  His  gift 
of  words  had  never  been  more  remarkable,  and  had 


356  EXILE 

the  evidence  been  weaker  he  might  almost  have  jus- 
tified his  decision  to  discharge  the  prisoner.  Even  as 
it  was,  he  seized  on  the  one  weak  spot,  the  question 
of  premeditation,  and  allowed  the  accused  the  benefit 
of  the  doubt  with  an  eloquence  that  rolled  in  swelling 
phrases. 

Everard's  speech  was  a  really  brilliant  performance, 
whatever  its  flagrant  injustice,  and  the  white  popula- 
tion present — not  a  few — acknowledged  this  later  on. 
Only  it  failed  to  touch  the  native  element  at  all.  The 
grave,  inscrutable  Arab  faces  remained  blank,  simply 
listening  and  waiting  for  sentence  of  death.  When  the 
accused  was  discharged,  despite  the  verdict  of  the 
jury,  there  was  a  little  hush  in  court,  a  pause  as  if 
those  listening  were  still  waiting  for  more  and  did  not 
realise  what  had  happened,  though  the  police  were 
removing  Haroun  AH  from  the  dock.  But  it  was  not 
until  the  judge  rose  to  leave  the  court  that  the  first 
warning  murmur  rose,  and  the  crowd  surged  up  like 
an  angry  sea  and  threatened  to  overwhelm  the  police 
already  in  the  building.  Everard  had  given  judg- 
ment almost  with  a  smile,  he  was  so  full  of  contempt 
for  the  public  opinion  that  futilely  opposed  his  own 
cleverness,  and  he  had  so  strong  a  belief  in  his  own 
power;  but  at  the  growing  murmur  he  hesitated  for 
the  first  time,  turned  back  to  look  even  as  he  was 
going  out  of  court,  and  whitened.  He  had  intended  to 
leave  the  court-house  at  once.  His  car  was  waiting 
outside,  for  he  had  another  work  on  hand, — the  dis- 
covery of  his  wife's  whereabouts.  He  was  certain 
that  she  had  not  reached  Health,  even  if  she  had  at- 
tempted to  escape  him  thither,  and  someone  must  have 
given  her  a  sanctuary.  During  the  days  of  the  trial 


EXILE  357 

he  had  been  hampered  by  his  work,  and  had  had  little 
time  to  track  her  after  her  escape  from  his  house, 
since  he  could  not  make  it  a  public  matter.  But  he  had 
made  inquiries,  while  maintaining  to  the  world  at 
large  that  she  had  gone  away  for  a  change,  and  was 
convinced  that  she  was  still  in  Reserve  or  its  neigh- 
bourhood. While  she  held  possession  of  the  letter  he 
knew  neither  rest  nor  ease,  and  he  meant  to  track  her 
down  and  deal  with  her  as  passion  and  revenge  ad- 
vised. But  that  warning  mutter  made  him  pause; 
he  could  not  leave  the  court-house  until  assured  that 
the  police  had  cleared  the  road  for  him.  The  natives 
who  had  been  in  court — they  should  never  have  been 
admitted !— rmight  gather  and  wait  for  him  outside. 
His  fear  was  not  very  keen-edged  as  yet,  but  it  suf- 
ficed to  make  him  linger  fatally  until  the  police  de- 
clared the  road  safe. 

Meanwhile  the  court  had  been  cleared,  and  the 
Arabs  had  been  driven  out  of  the  court-house.  They 
surged  over  the  road  and  into  the  bazaars,  where  they 
met  the  bulk  of  the  population  waiting  for  news.  The 
judgment  and  acquittal  of  Haroun  Ali  spread  like 
wildfire,  and  a  growing,  muttering  crowd  began  to 
throng  in  the  narrow  streets,  moving  always  towards 
the  court-house,  where  the  Chief  Justice  still  waited. 
By  the  time  a  small  body  of  police  had  arrived  on  the 
scene  the  roadway  was  packed,  and  the  outer  purlieus 
of  the  city  were  still  emptying  themselves  into  an  area 
the  centre  of  which  was  the  spot  where  Edgar  Ever- 
ard  was  caught  like  a  rat  in  a  trap.  The  police  strug- 
gled to  hold  back  the  crowd,  to  keep  them  at  least 
peaceable  and  orderly ;  but  the  excited  murmur  had 
grown  to  a  full-throated  yell  for  revenge,  the  demand 


358  EXILE 

which  in  a  Western  nation  would  have  been  for  lynch 
law.  Amongst  the  Arabs  it  threatened  not  only  the 
single  individual,  but  the  whole  structure  of  govern- 
ment, for  it  happened  to  be  near  the  festival  of  the 
"Id  Ramyan,"  and  at  such  times  a  kind  of  religious 
mania  surges  over  all  Arab  Exile  and  acts  more  dan- 
gerously than  cocaine.  It  was  when  the  police  found 
themselves  inadequate — with  secret  compliance,  for 
they  also  were  Arabs — that  the  telephone  reported  to 
Government  House  and  Government  House  called  up 
the  Marines. — 

It  had  been  a  hot  morning,  and  Claudia  Everard 
had  little  inducement  to  go  up  on  the  roof  in  search 
of  air,  which  circulated  better  in  the  house.  Never- 
theless at  one  o'clock  some  restlessness  or  sense  of 
danger  took  her  up  there  to  look  down  through  the 
narrow  loopholes  of  her  refuge.  There  were  more 
people  in  the  streets,  it  seemed  to  her,  than  was  usual 
at  this  hour.  They  stood  about  in  groups,  talking  to 
each  other,  and  did  not  pass  to  and  fro  about  their 
business.  .She  remembered  that  it  was  the  last  day  of 
Haroun  Ali's  trial,  and  wondered  if  indeed  that  could 
be  the  cause.  They  were  waiting  for  news — waiting 
for  the  verdict  and  judgment.  There  would  be  plenty 
of  talk  down  there  soon.  Or  was  it  something  to  do 
with  the  "Id,"  some  preliminary  gathering?  Her 
knowledge  of  Arab  customs  kept  the  festival  more  in 
her  mind  than  in  most  Europeans'  in  Exile. 

Her  servants — Hervey's  faithful  staff — summoned 
her  to  lunch;  but  after  her  food  she  went  back  to  the 
roof  again  about  two  o'clock,  for  now  she  was  begin- 
ning to  be  aware  that  there  was  a  hum  in  the  air. 
Away  over  the  roofs  of  the  city  she  could  see  the  big 


EXILE  359 

white  buildings  of  the  court-house  and  the  gaol,  but 
she  could  not  see  the  road,  and  so  she  missed  the  pour- 
ing forth  of  the  angry  crowd  after  it  became  known 
that  the  murderer  was  acquitted.  The  first  she  knew 
of  a  rising  was  the  steady  stream  of  people  that  be- 
gan to  flow  through  the  streets,  like  coloured  ants  be- 
neath her,  winding  now  here,  now  there,  but  always 
in  the  same  direction,  outwards  from  the  bazaars. 
Here  a  building  cut  them  off  from  her,  there  a  nar- 
row street  gave  her  a  glimpse  of  them  again.  She 
ran  from  side  to  side  of  the  roof,  trying  to  see  more 
and  more,  and  becoming  aware  of  that  hoarse  sound 
of  voices  that  was  swelling  up  and  bursting  out  of 
the  streets  and  into  the  road  which  passed  the  court- 
house. One  did  not  know  that  there  were  so  many 
people  in  the  city!  They  came  up  and  up,  as  if  the 
streets  automatically  opened  doors  to  let  them  pass; 
they  pressed  closer  and  closer  together  until  they  were 
a  living  mass  and  a  relentless  tide.  Claudia  gazed  at 
the  dark  stream  fascinated.  It  would  be  awful  to  be 
down  there  in  the  heart  of  that  surging  humanity. 

The  sound  of  voices  began  to  rise  on  the  air, 
mingling  with  the  sound  of  movement.  The  curious 
snarl  of  the  Arabic  words,  rung  from  one  to  another, 
rose  with  a  discordant  menace  and  struck  at  Claudia's 
heart.  She  no  longer  fancied  that  it  was  the  "Id" 
that  caused  it,  though  no  doubt  the  religious  excite- 
ment of  the  festival  was  further  inflaming  the  people, 
who  were  light-headed  from  the  long  fast, — she  knew 
in  an  instant  what  this  outpouring  of  the  populace 
meant,  and  where  they  were  going.  And  with  the 
next  breath  she  had  a  picture  of  her  husband's  face, 
livid  with  fear,  tossed  hither  and  thither  in  the  crowd. 


360  EXILE 

They  would  be  at  the  court-house  by  this  time  wait- 
ing for  him,  and  the  police  would  be  incapable  of 
holding  them  back  without  the  military.  An  over- 
whelming rush  of  pity,  as  for  some  stricken  creature, 
welled  up  in  her  heart  and  flooded  out  all  the  horror 
and  repulsion  with  which  Edgar  Everard  had  filled 
her.  From  the  measureless  height  and  breadth  of  her 
happy  love  she  pitied  him,  as  one  safe  in  Paradise 
might  pity  an  outcast  on  the  earth,  still  groping  in 
the  darkness  of  garbage  and  filth.  Poor,  poor  man! 
trapped  in  his  own  evil-doing,  threatened  with  the 
monster  of  lynch  law,  which  was  the  only  thing  that 
he  feared.  His  very  life  appeared  so  poor  and  puny 
to  Claudia  that  she  wondered  how  he  could  take  any 
enjoyment  in  it,  full  as  it  was  of  low  passions  and  base 
desires  and  degraded  aims.  And  yet  he  clung  to  it, 
and  dreaded  the  very  name  of  personal  violence  that 
menaced  his  physical  existence.  Everard  had  never 
feared  him  who  could  kill  the  soul,  but  he  did  very 
much  fear  him  who  could  kill  the  body,  for  his  body 
circumscribed  the  world  for  him. 

The  wild  crying  in  the  streets  rose  to  a  sound  of 
hoarse  frenzy  even  as  it  passed  further  off.  It  was 
no  more  the  voice  of  a  people  subjected  to  law  and 
order,  but  the  wild  hordes  of  the  desert,  setting  out 
to  raid  and  kill.  Would  the  military  never  come? 
They  must  have  been  called  out  by  this  time,  unless 
the  police  were  absolutely  overpowered  and  unable 
even  to  send  for  help. 

Claudia  ran  downstairs  from  the  roof,  with  her 
heart  ticking  somewhere  in  her  throat  and  an  urgent 
sense  of  going  to  the  rescue.  She  seized  the  heavy 
black  kameese  which  she  had  found  in  her  bedroom 


EXILE  361 

to  disguise  her  if  she  went  out;  but  her  feet  seemed 
to  outrun  her,  and  she  was  half-way  to  the  entrance 
of  the  house  before  she  got  it  over  her  head.  There 
was  no  one  in  the  lower  part  of  the  house  that  she 
could  see — the  servants  had  crowded  on  to  some  roof 
of  their  own  quarters  to  watch  the  rising,  or  had  gone 
to  the  door  in  the  side  street.  There  was  no  single 
soul  in  sight,  for  most  of  the  women  and  children 
were  safe  within  doors,  and  those  of  the  lowest  class 
who  had  ventured  with  the  men  were  far  ahead.  She 
ran  on  and  on,  taking  breathless  turnings ;  but  she  did 
not  come  up  with  the  multitude  until  the  outmost 
streets  of  the  city,  and  there  she  was  caught 
in  with  the  stragglers  and  pressed  forward  and  on- 
ward with  relentless  force,  a  tall  black  shrouded  fig- 
ure holding  her  kameese  safely  over  her  head  and  face 
and  unrecognisable.  She  was  only  one  more  Arab 
woman  in  the  heart  of  the  motley  crowd,  carried  along 
by  its  impetus,  and  feeling  choked  by  the  strange  scent 
and  sight  of  it. 

In  a  minute,  as  it  seemed  to  her,  the  whole  mass  in 
which  she  was  wedged  was  flung  out  of  the  last  nar- 
row alley  into  the  broader  road  running  to  the  Cut- 
ting. All  round  her  were  excited  cries,  deafening 
her — 'all  about  her  that  stifling  scent  of  dried  woods 
and  spices, — and  in  front  and  behind  the  awakened 
beautiful  faces  of  the  men,  the  shrouded  heads  of  the 
women.  It  struck  her  that  she  had  never  seen  this 
people  really  alive  before.  The  Oriental  reserve  was 
gone  from  them  as  if  they  had  lifted  a  veil,  and  the 
dark,  pale  features  worked  with  excitement,  the  large 
eyes  burnt,  the  parted  lips  showed  the  eager  teeth. 
They  looked  as  if  they  would  tear  and  torture  and  slay 


362  EXILE 

without  mercy.  And  through  it  all  she  seemed  to  see 
her  husband's  face  of  livid  fear. 

There  was  some  organisation  even  yet  in  the  crowd, 
and  some  leadership,  for  she  perceived  a  purpose  in 
this  steady  forward  movement.  The  people  massed 
themselves  up  and  down  the  road,  a  hundred  yards 
on  this  side  of  the  court-house,  a  hundred  yards  on 
that,  surging  up  behind  it  to  cut  off  a  way  of  escape, 
forming  a  solid  wall  in  front.  If  the  soldiers  came 
now  they  must  charge  upon  a  packed  mass  of  hu- 
manity, for  there  was  no  parting  it.  Away  in  front, 
in  the  little  open  space  before  the  dourt-house  doors, 
the  police  were  struggling,  borne  back  and  back  by  the 
relentless  people,  who  were  using  them  as  a  lever  to 
force  the  very  doors.  And  suddenly  out  of  the  crowd 
of  all  other  faces  Claudia  saw  Said's  face,  beautiful 
exceedingly,  with  the  beauty  of  battle  and  wrath  and 
wild  justice.  He  was  one  of  the  leaders,  and  was 
directing  the  assault.  She  felt  the  crowd  surge  for- 
ward, and  in  her  mind  was  the  instinct  to  reach  him 
and  appeal  to  him — a  half -framed  thought  that  was 
not  definite  purpose. 

She  could  not  see  the  defeat  of  the  police  or  the 
doors  of  that  mock  court  of  justice  broken  in,  but 
that  the  crowd  had  found  a  victim  on  which  to  vent 
their  hate  she  knew  from  the  din  that  arose  in  front. 
She  put  her  hands  up  to  her  ears  in  horror  to  shut 
out  a  shriek  she  might  recognise ;  but  it  was  not  Ever- 
ard,  it  was  Haroun  Ali  the  murderer,  and  his  acquit- 
tal availed  him  little.  Claudia  was  carried  forward  in 
the  wake  of  that  assassination  and  had  almost  reached 
Said;  she  had  gathered  her  voice  to  cry  to  him  when 
for  a  minute  the  ranks  in  front  of  her  loosened  for 


EXILE  363 

a  forward  rush  and  she  saw  the  thing  she  had  been 
seeing  in  her  mind — the  livid  face  of  her  husband 
with  his  head  bent  down  as  he  ran  hither  and  thither 
trying  to  escape.  The  sight  was  too  horrible — it  was 
no  longer  a  man,  it  was  terror  incarnate.  The  crowd's 
very  yell  changed  to  a  mockery  of  laughter  as  it  chased 
and  worried  him. 

Claudia  had  reached  the  front  ranks  of  the  people. 
Whether  her  intense  desire  had  brought  her  there  or 
some  inhuman  strength  she  did  not  know,  but  in  the 
same  moment  that  she  saw  Everard  she  saw  the  long 
emaciated  figure  of  Stanley  Murgatroyd  fighting  des- 
perately. She  reached  him  first,  and,  indifferent  that 
she  betrayed  herself,  cried  out  to  him  in  English, 
"We  must  save  him;  Stanley,  we  must  save  him!" 
and  turning  in  the  path  of  the  oncoming  mob  for  a 
moment  she  stood  at  bay  between  Everard  and  the 
death  he  gibbered  at.  Then  the  crowd  closed  over  her, 
as  over  an  unconsidered  atom.  It  trampled  and  struck 
with  unheeding  feet  in  its  desire  to  get  at  that  run- 
ning figure.  He  was  down  also — worse,  he  was  in 
their  hands,  his  shrieking  voice  drowned  in  the  deep 
volume  of  their  cry  for  real  justice  at  last. 

Stanley  Murgatroyd  had  turned  at  the  sound  of  the 
voice  that  reached  him,  and,  knowing  it  death,  had 
let  the  crowd  drive  him  back,  tripping  and  almost  fall- 
ing over  the  body  of  the  woman  he  sought  His  long 
arms  closed  round  her  and  he  crouched  above  her, 
shielding  what  life  might  remain  to  her  with  his  own. 
So  the  first  rush  went  past;  but  Claudia's  cry  had 
reached  other  ears  besides  Murgatroyd's,  and  as  he 
raised  his  bruised  and  bleeding  head  he  looked  up  into 
the  fierce  beautiful  face  of  the  young  Arab  whom  he 


364  EXILE 

had  seen  in  her  house.  He  uttered  a  cry  of  mingled 
suspicion  and  jealousy,  and  flung  out  his  arm  blindly 
to  thrust  Said  from  her,  stretching  his  gaunt  frame 
between  them.  The  crowd  had  loosened  and  was 
rushing  up  the  road  on  its  hideous  vengeance,  for  be- 
hind it  came  the  solid  tramp  of  the  Marines,  and  it 
would  not  be  baulked  of  its  prey.  There  was  the 
warning  of  a  volley — blank  ammunition  as  yet — and 
Said  swooped  like  a  hawk  to  gather  Claudia's  help- 
less body  from  the  ground ;  but  the  Crown  Prosecutor 
was  in  his  way.  With  his  left  hand  he  drew  the  long 
knife  from  his  belt  and  thrust  it  under  Murgatroyd's 
arm  .  .  .  then  as  the  body  dropped  sideways  he  lifted 
Claudia  and  dragged  her  out  of  the  way  of  the  sol- 
diers. 

"Ya  Sitt  lives,"  he  said,  though  a  lesser  instinct 
would  have  seen  no  movement  in  that  crushed  body. 
"A  dog's  life  has  gone  for  hers — God  is  great!" 

The  Marines  fixed  bayonets  and  charged.  .  .  . 


THE  END. 


BOOKS  BY  STEPHEN  LEACOCK 


BEHIND  THE  BEYOND 

AND  OTHER  CONTRIBUTIONS  TO  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE 

ILLUSTRATED  BY  A.  H.  FISH 

"In  Mr.  Stephen  Lea  cock  we  have  a  humorist  of  very  marked 
individuality.  His  new  book, '  Behind  the  Beyond, '  is  undeniably 
mirth-provoking.  Dull  must  be  the  soul  who  does  not  find  some- 
thing to  laugh  at  in  the  five  sketches  called  '  Familiar  Incidents ' 
— visits  to  the  photographer,  the  dentist,  the  barber,  and  so  on. " 

— Boston  Transcript. 

"Out  of  apparently  very  abundant  experience  of  life  both  off 
and  on  the  stage,  Mr.  Leacock  has  presented  an  uncommonly 
clever  satire  on  the  modern  problem  play  and  some  short  stories 
of  familiar  happenings  that  are  treated  with  a  delightful  sense  of 
humor. " — Baltimore  Sun. 

NONSENSE  NOVELS 

"A  knack  of  story  telling,  a  gift  of  caricature,  and  a  full  sense 
of  humor  are  displayed  in  these  ten  nonsense  novels. " 

— Washington  Star. 

"Even  the  most  loyal  admirers  of  Sherlock  Holmes  and  his 
marvelous  feats  of  Induction  and  deduction  will  hardly  grudge 
a  smile  of  appreciation  to  Stephen  Leacock. " — New  York  Sun. 

"Mr.  Loacock  bids  fair  to  rival  the  immortal  Lewis  Carroll 
in  combining  the  irreconcilable — exact  science  with  perfect  humor 
— and  rmaJcfag  the  amusement  better  the  instruction. " 

— Pall  Mall  Gazette. 


BOOKS  BY  STEPHEN  LEACOCK 


LITERARY  LAPSES 

"This  book  deserves  a  wide  reading,  for  it  is  spontaneous, 
fresh,  and  unforced." — Chicago  Tribune. 

"Philosophic  humor,  amusing  and  bubbling  over  with  the 
froth  of  a  delightful,  good-natured  cynicism." 

— Philadelphia  Public  Ledger. 

"Mr.  Stephen  Leacock  is  not  only  that  very  rare  thing,  a 
humorist,  but  that  still  rarer  thing,  a  humorist  in  high  spirits. 
A  collection  of  good  things  which  will  entertain  any  human 
being  who  appreciates  the  humor  of  high  spirits.  The  sketch 
entitled  'How  to  be  a  Doctor'  no  really  serious  medical  student 
can  afford  to  be  without." — Onlooker  (London). 


SUNSHINE  SKETCHES  OF  A 
LITTLE  TOWN 

"Humor,  unspoiled  by  irony,  satire,  or  even  the  gentlest 
raillery,  characterizes  this  book.  And  few  books  are  more 
suitably  entitled,  for  these  sketches  do  shed  into  the  cracks 
and  crannies  of  the  heart  glorious  sunshine,  the  companion  of 
pure  mirth. "  — Chicago  Record-Herald. 

"Mr.  Leacock's  fun  is  always  good-natured,  and  therefore 
doubly  enjoyable. " — New  York  Times. 

"We  cannot  recall  a  more  laughable  book. " — Pall  Mall  Gazette. 


Arcadian  Adventures 

With  the  Idle  Rich 

BY 

STEPHEN  LEACOCK 

Author  of  "Nonsense  Novels,"  "Sunshine  Sketches,"  etc. 

12mo  Cloth  $1.25  net 


"Mr.  Leacock  is  always  worth  our  while.  He  is  a  sharp- 
sighted,  laughing  philosopher."  — New  York  Tribune. 

"Whoever  reads  it  must  laugh,  particularly  if  he  reads  it  aloud." 

— Boston  Evening  Transcript. 

"He  is  able  to  analyse  subjects  that  loom  large  in  our  public 
life  and  to  illuminate  the  weak  points  in  them  with  flashes  of 
satire  which  are  the  more  telling  in  that  they  are  entirely  good- 
natured.  .  .  The  characters  are  deliciously  conceived. " 

— New  York  Evening  Post. 

"Crisp  conversation  and  paragraphs  jammed  with  American 
sarcasm  of  the  gilt-edged  variety.  .  .  Mr.  Leacock  penetrates  the 
upper-class  sham  and  satirizes  it  cheerfully.  This  is  almost 
certain  to  generate  little  chuckles  and  long  smiles  from  the  intelli- 
gent proletarian  who  treats  himself  to  these  adventures." 

— Chicago  Evening  Post. 

"Every  one  of  the  sketches  is  clever,  humorous,  but  never 
unkind.  An  analytical  gift  of  character  reading  is  one  of  the 
salient  attributes  of  Mr.  Leacock's  style,  and  his  present  volume 
is  one  that  will  be  seized  with  avidity  and  read  with  delight. " 

— Bu/alo  Express. 

"A  master  of  keen,  pointed  satire,  a  lover  of  a  good  laugh,  a 
writer  capable  of  dexterously  holding  up  to  the  light  the  foibles, 
weaknesses,  craftiness  and  guile  of  his  fellow  man  and  woman, 
is  this  Stephen  Leacock,  and  never  before  has  he  exemplified  all 
this  so  patently,  and  withal  so  artfully,  as  in  the  present  volume. " 

— Cleveland  Town  Topics. 


JOHN  LANE  COMPANY,    Publishers,    NEW  YORK 


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discussed  each  month  are:  paintings,  etchings,  drawings, 
photography,  sculpture,  architecture,  decorations,  tapes- 
tries, rugs,  textiles,  furniture,  embroideries,  landscape 
architecture,  stained  glass,  pottery  and  the  numerous 
other  handicrafts,  etc.  The  International  Studio  has 
maintained  its  place  as  the  leading  art  magazine  in  the 
English  language  ever  since  its  first  issue  in  March,  1897. 

"It  is  a  treasure  house  of  everything  of  value 
in  the  way  of  art."—  Indianapolis  Star. 

"An  art  gallery  in  itself."  —Brooklyn  Eagle. 


JOHN  LANE  COMPANY 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


PSD  2338  9/77 


'^- — 


3  1158  00217  2095 


A    000052477     7 


